Somewhere Out There
by practical-potions-mistress
Summary: Voldemort has won. Hermione has fled England, attempting to make a new life for herself in Midwestern America. Her life collides with a very familiar character, also trying to heal. Can they help each other? Not DH compliant. HG/SS eventually.
1. Prologue

_**Somewhere Out There: Prologue**_

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I escaped.

As Voldemort's clutches gripped the land of Britain, my homeland, I had watched people change from loving, defiant individuals to frightened, guarded souls. I, along with them, took the dizzying spiral down into despair, fear, and agony. I frantically fought in the final battle alongside the few people I trusted with my life and they died. All of them died. They had claimed it was to save me; to give themselves one last chance against the powers of the Dark Lord. They were wrong. There were no funerals, but only death. Burned corpses laid beside the living, the Death Eaters preferring to let them rot beside their friends rather than to kill and bury them. I did nothing but watch them die. I was frightened. I was scared.

I ran.

I fled to America, their over-populated cities encrusted with all of their pristine skyscrapers, the gleaming metal thrusting into the sky as a bastion against the dark forces comforted me. Yet, even in the sea of people, I felt alone. I found adapting to the Muggle world that I had come from much harder than I expected, little comfort after Hogwarts was destroyed, my parents murdered, and all of my friends imprisoned, dead, or worse.

So I fled even from those gleaming towers of protection towards the farmlands of the Midwest, breathing the clean air, hoping inside it might cleanse my soul from the blood I still imagined dripping from my hands. With what meager savings I had, I found work as a cook, waitress, and maid for an older woman at a bed-and-breakfast she owned in a small city buried within the cornfields of the American land. I didn't really explain my past to her, just telling her what I had to in order to convince her to let me stay. I didn't even tell her my name. Instead, she called me Nell, saying I needed to cure the darkness that slept inside of me. Never once did she throw me out when I woke screaming in the night, visions of the war and death plaguing my sleep. She merely moved me away from the frequently used guest rooms to a little corner of my own, gave me a doctor's name and a phone, and left me to deal with it myself.

I cried.

I never called. I burned the paper in the fire later that night when she was bringing in tea, but merely pursed her lips and motioned for me to sit. She wanted to know. I gazed into the fire, lips closed and eyes lost in memory, the cup trembling in my hands. The cup left my hands without my notice and only her hand on mine startled me back into present day. Felicia, as she told me to call her months ago, smiled sadly, but told me that she understood if I didn't want to say anything about it just yet. Some wounds, she said, take a long time to heal, some our whole lives. I cried myself to sleep that night, wondering how this world could lie so untouched by the horrors of truth and I was meant to suffer in silence.

In the morning, I awoke to find a cup of coffee already steaming in my place, a small milk pot left beside it for me, an embossed shiny wallet with a pearl clasp, and a cursive, handwritten note next to it, obviously written by Felicia earlier that morning.

"Nell,

After all these months, I have come to love you like the daughter I never could have. I have talked with you, eaten with you, shared my life with you, yet you were and are unable to do the same with me. I have tried to respect your silence, but I can do so no longer. You will always be welcome here, but I want you to find another life; one with meaning and desire, not one of plain content. In the wallet you will find eight hundred dollars and a slip of paper with a name and phone number on it. He knows what to do and will explain it to you on the way. Please, find a life of happiness for yourself, not sorrow.

All my heart,

Felicia"

With tears burning in my eyes, I opened the wallet. My mouth dropped open as eight neatly pressed bills fell out along with a faded yellow slip of paper. Not trusting myself to do anything else, I steeled myself against all that I knew was wrong, put the money back in the wallet, and ran to the phone. Quickly dialing the number, I listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, a deep male voice answered, asking who it was.

"Sir…," I stammered. "This is Nell Johnson. I'm a…friend of Felicia's. She gave me your number…and told me to call you." I winced, waiting for his answer.

"Nell, this is your lucky day," the man replied. "Be ready in an hour."

I held the phone until the dial tone blared in my ear, signaling the man had hung up. Absently, I set the phone back on the receiver and tucked an errant curl behind my ear. I guess it was time to pack.

I had hope.

I sat on the front step almost forty minutes later, gazing out at the freshly mown grass, perfectly white sidewalk, and paved street beyond. The streetlight changed from red to green and back again while I sat in the brisk spring day, running through my thoughts like pictures as snippets came back to me from months ago. I was reminded of the first day I showed up on this same step months prior, except this was in the autumn. October, I think, because of the pumpkins, bright and orange, prime for the festival that was advertised to be in a few days. All I knew at that moment was the chill of the near winter wind and the small warmth of my fading, lightweight coat.

Felicia had been shocked, eyes widening slightly as she took in my pale skin, near blue lips, tired eyes, and thin form. Immediately she had ushered me inside her kitchen, rushing me through the front hall to the warmth of freshly baked bread and tea. After the bitter tea had warmed me and I had picked at a piece of bread, she had asked me my name. I had merely shaken my head, not willing to tell her even that. At that point, she forced me to eat the bread and offered me a job. I was astounded, but narrowed my eyes, trying to find reason and logic behind her offer. I couldn't find any. I was weak, tired, and all but condemned. Fate had led me here, I decided, so I accepted. I told myself it was in weakness that I caved, but the truth was I had nothing left to live for. Felicia had offered me a purpose and I had taken it.

Over the next few months, I had grown to love the woman who reminded me so much of my own mother. She had taught me the in-and-outs of the business she ran, the who's, when's, why's, and most importantly, the how's. Of course, I was eager to learn since it kept my mind off of England, my home, and my past. It was never a question of how fast I learned, because I made many mistakes my first few weeks, but that I was learning. Felicia seemed to like teaching me the things that I had once known, but forgotten the art of after the war. It changed me a little, melting through the edges of my now-hardened heart with a burning fire that burned away the most resilient metal. I had my life back.

Now, I realized, as the wind blew my hair into my amber-colored eyes and across my pale cheeks, that Felicia had comforted me without question, without agenda, and without fear, all without expecting anything of me. I opened the wallet again where I had tucked Felicia's letter inside, folded with crisp, faint lines now in the paper, and smiled. I guess this was her way of thanking me somehow. I couldn't see how throwing me out into some unknown man's waiting arms helped me at all, but I still had a little bit of hope. After all, I was Gryffindor for a reason. Waving my fist in the air, I chanted inwardly at my bravery.

A slight cough brought me back to reality as I saw myself gazing at muddy boots. Actually, they were very muddy boots and as I drew my gaze up, belonged to an older gentleman with a rightful scowl on his face. My eyes widened and I apologized profusely, stumbling over my many words as I tried to right whatever wrong I had already committed. I was verily surprised, then, when his scowl turned upwards with speed and a huge grin broke out on his face. His arm moved, showing a weathered head outstretched to me in offering. Warmly, I took it, grasping it as a small smile broke out on my face as well.

"Hello, Mr…" I stated as I realized I didn't even know his name.

He saw my fumbling and smoothly said, "Name's Mick. That your only bag?" he stated, pointing towards my one fading suitcase. I nodded, afraid to say anything else. He lifted it easily, placing it in the back of his beat up two-door truck with care, strapping it down so it wouldn't roll around for the ride. I walked behind him, unsure of what to do. He finished, getting around to the driver's side, jumping in with a lightness to his step that I couldn't quite place to him, turned the key in the ignition, and started up the truck. The truck spluttered and coughed for a minute, then chugged a little louder than a normal truck should. My hand on my heart and eyes wide after my five foot jump in the air from surprise, I glanced inside the truck to see him motioning to me to get in. Hurriedly, I did so, snapping the seat belt secure and tight, my white knuckles gripping the belt so hard they cracked.

"I think I should have warned you about the noise," he chuckled when he turned to me. "She's quite a loud one, but she settles down once you get her goin'. I'll explain about what Felicia told me when we get on our way. Betsy here likes the open field and air a lot more than this city nicety. Give her dirt and manure any day."

As he sped off into the streets of Deer Creek, I looked back at the small, two-story house that had become my home. The newly painted sign hung from the new chains off the pole on the front porch, the lovely, muted rose color in contrast to the stark white of the house. I noticed the street sign perched on the corner and made a vow that someday I would return to that little house. It had been my saving grace on that corner of Keller and Winston, and one day, I'd show her just how far her little Nell had gotten. With a satisfied smile, I turned towards the unknown and hoped that a new life for me wasn't too far behind. England was long gone, my homeland in shambles, but I had this little spark of hope left for America, my last outpost before the hells of evil.

**END PROLOGUE**


	2. The Road To Nowhere

_Somewhere Out There: The Road to Nowhere_

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As Mick drove his beat up "Betsy" down the one lane roads outside of Deer Creek, I gazed out the window at the empty fields, wet from the spring rains that had fallen just yesterday. Like always, my mind wandered, fingers unconsciously closing and opening the pearl snap of the wallet Felicia had left me. The radio softly played some crooning female on the country station, which I pointedly ignored for lack of interest, as I took in my new surroundings. This was nothing like my native Britain, this America. I missed the soft summer rains and the bakery smells of London…and even more so as I looked across what I considered this barren land.

Most of all, I missed my magic. My wand, broken in the Final Battle, had been cast aside long ago. I hadn't been able to repair it, or even could have, without the help of a wandmaker. Ollivander had died months before the Final Battle, a casualty of the strife between Death Eaters needing stolen wands and the willingness of the black market to sell them. In those days, even the runners of the black market were wary of the power of Voldemort, most going into hiding or ending up dead. One of his foolhardy plans had resulted in the deaths of many of his Death Eaters, but Ollivander and his young apprentice, a sweet, dark-haired Ravenclaw, had also perished in the skirmish. The Minister called it a regrettable loss, one which the Order had frowned upon. Many of the Order believed that the Ministry had become as corrupt as the evil they were trying to prevent, and certainly in the end, had not been far off.

The Ministry did nothing to stop the onslaught of the Death Eaters, killings become more frequent and the hovering Dark Mark on the front page of the Daily Prophet becoming a staple to the Wizarding World. It was around that time when I had stopped my subscription to the Prophet, wanting to ignore death and focus on my studies. When a teacher was taken on their way back from Hogsmeade, the school's gates were closed and no one let in, or out. Hogwarts had become a prison, not of learning, but of fear. Families were suffering, unable to see their children, only able to trust in the power of Hogwarts and its many wards and safeguards. Others were outraged, claiming that the staff was giving their children willingly to Voldemort, Slytherin or not. Still others didn't know what to think, torn between survival and the shred of hope that was getting weaker each passing day.

When the attack on Hogwarts came, it was the final stronghold against Voldemort's power. The Order had been sure of betrayal inside the Ministry, but had nowhere to turn except to its own. A day before the Final Battle, half of the Order disappeared and was nowhere to be found. Molly Weasley and Tonks had simply vanished, Kingsley was nowhere to be found, and Snape had left all of his belongings behind save his wand, Death Eater cloak, and mask. The remaining members of the Order were stunned, Remus and Arthur unable to look for their wives, and the rest were distraught. Maximum security measures were sought at Hogwarts, but we all feared it would never be enough.

Late the next night, the sound of screaming from the bowels of the castle tore us all from our beds, grabbing for our wands and clothes. The Dark Mark hovered over Hogwarts and as Harry, Ron, and I embraced each other for one last moment, I had felt a sickening in my gut that never went away that night. It was the last time I saw either of them alive. My life had been a nightmare after that, one that I didn't want to remember anymore.

My focus came back to the open fields in front of me, the blades of grass moving in the breeze. The bright green grass mixed with reds, oranges, and bright yellows from the flowers near the porch steps of the farmhouses was in contrast with the emotions I felt about the final days of my Wizarding life, for I was all but Muggle now. Without my wand, I was nothing but a crippled wizard, comparable to an elderly individual without his or her cane. It was my lifeline for so many years, and the cruelty of Voldemort stole it from me in his brutal bloodbath.

Certainly, I had grown up Muggle, but I felt sincerely as if I was missing a part of myself, being unable to cast Charms, transfigure items, or brew Potions. It feels like I have lost not only an imaginary arm and leg, but like I have lost a part of my soul and heart by losing my ability to cast magic. Deep down, it was the part of me that never really healed. Pain was all too familiar for my Wizarding past, so I tried not to think about it…or so I thought.

Another cough, this one louder than the last, as I was told, brought me back to attention once more. Mick was looking at me with a pensive expression, his pale white beard a little scraggly in spots, but his bright blue eyes full of life and vigor. With a start, I realized his resemblance to Dumbledore, one of the many fallen, and wondered if he too, this Mick, was also a great man such as the Headmaster. My surprise must have shown on my face, for Mick chuckled lightly and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes were very apparent for a few moments. Yes, very like Dumbledore, I thought, almost willing him to offer me a lemon drop to make the world go back in time.

Mick, of course, did not. He merely pointed to the pearl clasp on the wallet and spoke.

"Those are real, you know. That wallet is one of Felicia's only treasures because it's near antique. Passed down the family line, she said, but she never had anyone to pass it to, especially since her husband died and all that before she even got pregnant." At this, he frowned, but looked at me expectantly. "She must really think you're somethin' if she gave you that…guess even a skinny little thing like you can pack some punch." Grinning, he paused for a moment and cryptically stated, "I guess we'll see just how strong ya are when we get to White Pine."

Curiosity overtook me as I asked him, "Where and what exactly is this 'White Pine' that you are talking about?"

Pursing his lips much like Felicia, he paused for a moment before he spoke, seeming to weigh the words in his mind before he spoke them. "White Pine is a town, more like a small city really. One of my grandkids owns a set of apartment buildings there, and Felicia called me earlier, asking if there might be a spot for you. Usually, he would have interviewed ya, but Felicia's an old friend and it was a bit of a…eh…pressing manner for her, if you could say that. My guess is that Felicia thought that money in the wallet might help you start over and make a new life for yourself. My grandson's pretty fair with the rent and I'm sure Felicia gave you enough to get started, but not enough to spoil you."

I was dumbfounded once again that day at the amount of kindness these unknown people showed to me. "Sir, I don't mean to pry, but…why are you helping me? You don't seem to be getting anything out of this deal from Felicia and certainly nothing from me. I'm sure I can support myself on my own. In fact, I don't understand any of this one bit!" I cried, raising my arms up in the air like a screaming child. As soon as my knuckles connected sharply with metal, I realized my mistake and noted that for future reference.

"Ouch," I muttered sheepishly, resting my aching hands back on Felicia's wallet.

"Nell, I can tell you're not from around here." I hung my head and shook it once in an affirmative no. "It doesn't matter either way, seeing as you're a friend of Felicia's, but small town talk gets around. You've been the subject of many dinner table conversations for years." At my gasp, he pressed on. "Your accent is different, you look worn thin and have next to nothing, and did you think showing up on someone's front porch soaking wet and starving was going to go unnoticed? Did you think of that?"

I flinched in my seat, firmly looking away to the empty, barren fields once more as I contemplated my response. "Personally, I don't think I thought it through either way, sir. I never expected my sudden appearance to be anything more than a passing glance. I keep to myself for a reason and I would like it to stay that way," I spat back with a hint of steel in my tone.

"Whether you like it or not, Nell," he stated with the same tone, "you have become a part of the community, albeit a secluded one. Every person in this town, and even White Pine, thinks they have their secrets, but they don't. Neither do you. That's somethin' you'll have to learn to accept. Eventually even this ride to White Pine will be spread around and I'll be approached for some piece of gossip the old town birds don't know about you…"

"Why, that's preposterous! There's nothing they can say. They don't even know me…" I claimed as I trailed off, still staring out the window, now cracked to let in a little bit of a spring breeze.

"It doesn't matter to them. Obviously, I can tell them nothing they already won't know, so they'll leave me alone. I don't care for many of them anyways, but it's a fair warning to you. Even the nicest of souls hides their secrets, Miss _Nell Johnson_," he stated with emphasis on my name.

As I looked in his bright blue eyes, he reminded me more of Albus, with his ability to see through even the most thorough of disguises. It brought fresh tears to my eyes as I remembered his life, his death, his funeral…I sniffled a bit and tried to blink back the tears, but they poured down my cheeks, relentless in their fiery tracks to add to my embarrassment. A handkerchief was thrust into my hand, little embroidery on the edges of it cross-stitched into flowers. As I wiped my eyes eventually, I noticed his curious look, but he said nothing, merely accepting the handkerchief when I gave it back after I wished I could have Scourgified it first and turned back towards the roads. It was then that I noticed the homes were getting a little closer together, the barren fields gone and replaced with neatly cut grass, children's toys strewn on the lawns, and at least one car in every driveway.

This was as close to London as I was going to get and I was willing to let it last as long as possible. We passed through the center of town, stopping at the streetlights along the way as I took in the city. There were apartments above the storefronts in the center of town, the small windows accompanied by window air conditioners, and the main street stretched for at least a mile or two. I noticed an antique theater still in use, a few sweets stores, a pharmacy, and two general stores in the vicinity of the square itself. Beyond that, closer to the edge of town, I saw the large, looming white gas station. The truck stopped at the light on the corner where it sat, idling noisily as the red light glared at it from up above.

The grime of the small town covered the blaring white of the tanks, making it a little more bearable to the passing cars as the sun glared down on it. With six gas tanks, it was the largest station I'd seen since the big cities, filling up all sort of automobiles from beat-up scrap models of the masses to the shining cars of the super-elite executives. The pavement of the parking lot was void of cracks, pristine black except for the cigarette stubs and candy bar wrappers that littered the edges of the curb. A large computerized sign declared "Cold Soda: 59 cents" in large block red letters as the truck started again with a jump as the light turned green. I turned in my seat to gaze at the store fading away in the distance and sat back straight when it disappeared from sight.

It seemed out of place, a pristine goddess in the middle of hell, and something drew me to it. I felt much like that gas station, the pure coating of white grimed up through the sins and evils of daily life, and pondered it further as we turned a corner to the right. Straight ahead, I saw another sign. "Richmond Apartments," it read, and I resigned myself to look around at what would be my new surroundings.

Mick parked in front of a small home to the side, a sandy brick much like the apartment complex, and motioned for me to come with him. He took my lonely bag out of the back of the pickup, carried it up the steps to the front door, and sat it beside the doormat. Impatiently, he turned with his arms crossed and looked at me pointedly. I quickly walked up to the door and rang the bell, the white-haired man's face graced with an expectant look. After the second ring, the door opened to reveal a man in his upper forties with slightly graying locks and deep-set eyes. He was tall, gazing down at me through the screen before noticing Mick off to my left.

Warmly, he stepped outside and embraced his grandfather. After a few minutes of conversation, he turned to me with that same expectant look as his grandfather had moments ago. I moved forward a bit, squaring myself up to my full height before speaking.

"I'm Miss Johnson and I'm looking to rent an apartment of yours. I've been told you have…fair rates."

"Miss Johnson," the younger man replied with a smirk, "these are the only rates." He laughed richly at my apparent shock. "However, I can tell you for certain they are very fair. Now follow me. Do you want coffee?"

"Tea?" I asked.

"Possibly," he replied. "I'll see what I can do."

I followed him inside, taking in the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the glint of a metal teapot. There would be tea after all.

A few minutes later, I breathed in the rich scent of what I believed to be Earl Grey. I took a sip and was comforted by the fact that the tea was in fact, Earl Grey. I glanced up, smiling, reminded of drinking tea while Ron and Harry drank their Butterbeers by the fire in the common room. Studying for them was such a chore; but the caffeine in the tea would keep me awake to answer their overflowing slew of questions the night before the exams. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, yet a frown crossed my face, breaking the memory into shards of shattered glass.

Both Mick and his son, whose name was John, were staring at me, expecting me to explain what caused the sudden change. Instead, I smiled again, scooting closer to the edge of the chair with my tea, setting it on the wooden coaster I was provided. I spread my hands on the table, drawing a breath and collecting myself before I spoke.

"John, I know that hospitality is what you people do around here, but I would like to get down to business, as currently I have no place to live and…" I emphasized, pointing at my faded suitcase, "one meager bag in which my whole life is carried. I have eight hundred dollars, what I figure to be good enough for a month's rent, utilities, food, and what little other supplies I'll need. I still need to find work, a reliable form of transportation, and a good market. I'd like to get started as soon as possible."

I hesitated for a moment, staring down at the pearl clasp of the wallet, opening and closing it a few times before I continued. "Felicia trusts me with all of this, part of her own life, to help me make one of my own. I need to pay her back…not now, but eventually. The sooner I get started, the less I will feel as if I'm taking advantage of someone who is special to me. I owe a debt now, and I plan to pay it," I declared with a triumphant note in my voice.

"That's a good girl, Nell," Mick stated with an affirmative tone. "Felicia would be proud of you."

John pushed some papers towards me, coupled with a pen, and proceeded to explain the process of leasing an apartment. After I had read through the papers, signed them, and asked for two sets of stamped copies, I was presented with a key with the number of my apartment and building inscribed on it. As a group, we left John's office space and went to view and approve the apartment. I walked across the cracked pavement, taking in my new home for the first real look. The sandy brick was older, cracked in some places, but not shabby. The rails on the second floor were a bit rusty, but they were still sturdy and held fast in place. When we reached the right number, 226, the yellowish color of the door stood out a little from the sandy brick, a little bit of the paint chipping in the top right corner. It didn't matter to me, though, and I inserted the key into the lock with a satisfying click.

I pushed the door open to my new home and immediately saw how small it was. The tiny foyer area led directly into the kitchen area which connected with the dining/living area. A small bedroom was off to one side, the bathroom door peeking out into the corner of my eye. After a quick look, I pronounced it fit and perfect, pleasing both the men standing there. I tossed my bag suitcase inside, locked the door, and walked back to the truck to say goodbye to Mick.

John had long since disappeared by the time we both returned to the vehicle. I had a few tears in my eyes as I once again looked at the white-haired, blue-eyed old man, wishing for one moment he was Dumbledore before pulling him into a fierce hug. It surprised him, I think, but all the same, he wrapped his arms around me in a comforting gesture, grasping me tight before letting me go. I stood away from the truck as he climbed in, started the motor of old "Betsy", and he drove off, leaving behind a small cloud of dust in his wake. I waved until I could no longer see the truck, my hand stretched high in the air like some child bidding goodbye to her favorite grandfather.

I turned, holding the lone key in my palm, and gazed down at what little life I now owned. Determined, I set my feet to walk, one foot in front of the other, towards town to find a market and maybe a newspaper. It had been a long time since I'd known anything about any world other than my own. My world was a little too small for me now, the Gryffindor crying out to be set free and let loose the daring, adventurous girl I once was. I smiled a bit, grasping onto the bit of hope I held in my palm before dropping the key into the pearl-clasped wallet that was now my greatest treasure.

I wondered for a moment if they sold the Daily Prophet before I broke into a laugh. They definitely didn't sell the Daily Prophet, or at least, I hoped not.


	3. A Passing Glance

_Somewhere Out There: A Passing Glance_

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Putting my hands in the pockets of the old jeans I wore, the bottoms tattered a bit, I walked on down the road and past the houses of happy families, the kids currently in school and their parents working the 40-hour-a-week jobs that provided the food, clothing, and livelihood for their families. I was just hoping to find enough to get by for now. Hopes I ever had of a family had died with Ron. I had fallen quickly in love with his developing courage and steadfastness when it came to the people he cared about. He was loyal to a fault and fascinated by my studious nature. Even though we were opposites, we clung to each other for friendship and love.

We had talked about our future together during the war; what would happen if we won, what would happen if Voldemort won, who would plan the wedding, and what our children would grow up to be. Even though I thought of myself as a little more down-to-earth than Ron was, I still craved to be a best friend, mother, and lover. I never got that chance. After the disappearance of Mrs. Weasley and Tonks, the Order decided it would be better to keep the lot of us separated, especially all the Weasley siblings. When I did see Ron after that, there was no time for snogging, just a few quick perfunctory hugs and little was ever said. We had never talked about what would happen if one of us died. We'd never made it that far in our thinking. Well, no, we had, but we didn't want to imagine the possibility.

Ron proposed, of course, a little before the disappearances. Harry had gone with him to Diagon Alley over Christmas Break to get the ring. It was beautiful, a gold band with a single pear-shaped diamond in the middle surrounded by two small rubies. He didn't have any big, sweet proposal line, but he gave to me on the first day of spring. He claimed it signified things were going to get better, that the world would be right again, that the charming little children we would have would grow up in a world. Though he didn't plan where we would live, considering the Burrow was already a little, well, crowded, it was sweet of him either way. With tears in my eyes, I had accepted and he slipped the gold ring onto the four finger of my right hand. He claimed it was tradition in Wizarding culture to place the ring on the dominant hand so the person would always be reminded to love and of their love to one another. He'd forgotten that I'm left-handed, but I didn't feel the need to remind him…again.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I wore it always. Instead of wearing it on my finger, however, I wore it on a chain under my clothing and close to my heart. I didn't want anyone to use my heritage or "lack thereof" as a means to destroy the Weasley family. War was a time of desperation. If one word of our new status had reached the wrong ears, Ron's family might have been killed, my parents slaughtered, or even worse. A Mudblood was useless to the Dark Lord and Ron, though a blood traitor, was still a step above the ultimate evil of "dirty blood." I wanted to protect him, but it didn't save him in the end…nothing would have. Months later, I put the ring back in its box, closing the lid on a future that was no longer possible, the bright glint of gold fading as the lid clicked shut with a snap, a hard finality to the sound.

The ring, nestled in its shell of a box, was currently residing in my one faded suitcase back at the apartment I had just rented. It was a reminder of my past, a mere accoutrement of a life I couldn't have any longer. My books had been burned during the Final Battle, parts of the castle flooded with Fiendfyre in Voldemort's uncontrollable rage. Gryffindor's common room had been destroyed in the fire; a burned husk of what it once is all that remained in the memory of Godric Gryffindor. Salazar's heir had been brutal to his enemies, not kind. Voldemort took everything; love, friends, family, possessions, as my baser instincts had set in after the Final Battle. Survival and reluctance to leave the Wizarding World tangled with the warring emotions in my heart. Taken over by fear, I had fled, created a new persona, barely believable to the reality of Hermione Granger, but the only solution to rebuilding the future I no longer had.

It was times like these when I hated being Nell Johnson, the shy, reluctant young woman, whose passion for life had died along with her only hope at love. Truth be told, it was hard to tell where Hermione Granger ended and Nell Johnson began. Two lives, inexplicably intertwined in the same body, keeping each other alive through a twisted mixture of pain and hope. The memories I held inside of my friends and family made me long for a Pensieve, to keep the memories from becoming dim and to be instead, as clear as the moment they were made. I wanted little, perfect treasures, needed them. Yet, they grow dimmer, not to make room for new, but because I have changed. I no longer care to remember who I was. Clinging to Nell Johnson made my life much less complicated.

I tripped on the staggered pavement, catching myself at the last moment. Cursing myself for not paying attention, my stubbed toe throbbed in pain as I continued on down the street. I glanced at the antique shops, old clocks, watches, and interesting curios on display, taking glances at the price tags occasionally. I whistled through my teeth at some of the prices, much higher than I thought they should be, and kept walking. I didn't need someone else's memories, I needed food and work. Truthfully, I was willing to walk around with a large cardboard sign that said in big, black letters, "WILL WORK FOR FOOD" like I'd seen in the bigger cities, but being the proud, obstinate Gryffindor that I was, didn't want to give in to that so quickly. This, of course, is beside the fact that doing just that in such a small town would certainly not help whatever position I held in the gossip mill so far.

Shuddering against that thought, I kept walking until I was once again at the large gleaming gas station, its logo emblazoned on the front in bright red neon letters. The name, "BISTO", made me laugh a little and I found it appropriate that there was a "Now Hiring" sign located on the glass to the left of the entryway. Smiling, I went inside and approached the front, the contrast of temperatures chilling me a bit as I walked in. A tall young woman with black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose did little to distract from her bored look and heavy makeup. She leaned on the counter a bit and there were a series of multicolored cards to her left in rows, some rolled out on the other side. I gazed at them a bit closer, studying them a little until the girl's voice broke me out of it.

"Do you want some lotto or not?" she stated impatiently.

Shaking my head, I stammered out, "No, I saw your sign and would like to apply."

Her eyes widened a moment before she spoke. "You're British, aren't you? What a cool accent! Could you teach me sometime? Are you new around here? I haven't seen you yet and _everybody _comes in here some time."

"Thanks," I said sheepishly, annoyed at her barrage of questions that I refused to answer. After she kept staring at me, I got a little haughty with my next statement, "Could I just have an application, please? I need to find a market somewhere and I don't really know where that is either, and I would like to get going."

"Well, well, aren't we special?" she stated with some sarcasm. "Market's down the street on the left. You'll find everythin' you'll need there. Locally owned too, so it's cheaper than the larger stores, and the fruits and vegetables are fresh in season."

I went to leave, but she caught me just as I went out the door. Thrusting a few plastic bags in my hand, she said, "You'll need those for the market. They're out of 'em down there. Found that out the hard way this mornin' when I stopped by earlier." I accepted them, just now noticing that there was a man standing in the corner getting coffee. I blushed as I gazed in that direction, embarrassed to have absolutely nothing and someone else knowing. I could just imagine the rumors in the gossip mill going around…and I flinched.

The girl whispered to me, "Oh, that's Sullivan. Don't worry about him knowin' anything. Keeps to himself anyway and he doesn't bother anyone." Her voice got louder and she pushed me out the door, saying, "My name's Sadie. What's yours?"

"Nell. Nell Johnson."

"See ya, Nell." Urging me to leave, she pointed down the street. "The market closes in an hour, so you need to hurry."

"Thanks for these," I motioned, holding up the plastic sacks.

"It was nothing. Come visit me. Now go!"

As I hurried off, I noticed the man inside staring at the interaction. He looked vaguely familiar, but I shook that idea out of my head as I went on my way, application and sacks in hand, as I rushed to the market.

"Hire her."

"Sullivan, you know I can't make any promises about any of that. You'd need to talk to Amber, who you know isn't here right now," Sadie said, ringing up the coffee in the register. "Eighty-five cents, by the way."

Irritated, the dark man paid his bill, pushing his sunglasses up his face and into his short, chin-length hair. "Sadie, tell Amber to hire her then. She's too proud to steal."

Ignoring that comment, Sadie kept right on talking, seeming oblivious to the jab he threw at her previous co-worker. "It's a little strange that she's here, ain't it? Both of you talk the same, although you're a bit crueler and a lot more sarcastic," Sadie mentioned, giggling slightly.

Glaring at her, the man stood up to his full height and looked down at her. Sadie stopped giggling, leaning back on the counter, bored again after he stopped talking.

"You always ruin the fun, Sullivan," she pouted, pushing her bottom lip out slightly. Returning his glare, she stated, "I'll tell Amber, but I still can't promise anything."

With a short grunt, he grabbed his coffee, nodding to Sadie as he strolled through the door with an easily practiced gait, sipping his coffee as he went. He walked down the corner of the building and then disappeared out of sight. Sadie merely shook her head, sighed, and went to call Amber. This was going to be interesting, she thought with a slightly evil smirk plastered on her face.

I set the bags down in front of the door, fumbling with the apartment key to get it in the lock. The market was frustrating, first refusing to take the hundred dollar bills, then accepting them merely because I had nothing else. After a few sneers from the public behind me, I nearly ran towards the door to escape those people. One day, and I feel as if I had already made enemies in this small little town of Deer Creek.

Successful, I dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and proceeded to extract the necessary items for my dinner. I had bought a simple pasta pot, a small skillet, a few kitchen knives with silverware, and a cutting board, along with fresh fruits, vegetables, milk, a can of coffee, and other foodstuffs. While I was making dinner, I thought about the man I'd seen in the gas station while I was talking with Sadie. He was taller with a lean build, a bit pale, with a dark shock of raven-colored hair. When he had looked at Sadie and I, his mouth was set disapprovingly as if we were gossiping about him, and his eyes were hidden behind a rather large pair of sunglasses. I'd felt, though, as I was standing there, a familiarity with this man that surprised me.

A sharp pain stabbed through me as I looked down at my bleeding finger. Cursing myself, I grabbed the salvageable tomato and threw it in the skillet, tossed the rest in the trash, and set to work bandaging my finger and washing the cutting board. It was a time like this when I wish a simple Scourgify would come to mind, but my body wanted no more to do with magic. Yes, I was the first in my class to perfect non-verbal spells, but the body and mind have to share a will to make that happen. Obviously, I do not…and it had been harder for me to grasp something that seemed so intangible without a wand. I likened it to pulling at straws and hoping to get the right one, the right straw that signaled the strand of magic the caster needed to pull. It is much harder than it really seems.

So, here I am, Muggle as I have ever been, struggling to get by on what little I have, without magic or work. I count my dinner, now cooked, as a success. Though the tomato is a little burnt and the pasta a little chewy, it's edible. Comforts fell away after the war, but a warm meal and a semi-soft couch made me feel like a princess, even if it was all a fairytale I made up for myself. Being a witch was a fairytale for me nine years ago when Dumbledore came to tell my parents I was different; I had magic. It was exciting then, the wand-waving, incantations, and the overall environment, but Hogwarts was nothing now. My friends had died there, along with my hopes and dreams of becoming something in a world in which I no longer played a part.

After I cleaned up the kitchen and the sun had set, I opened the application I got from Sadie and picked up a pen. Chewing on the edge of the pen, I mulled over what I should write in the blanks. Nell Johnson was a lie and Hermione Granger was dead. I thought for a few long moments on what to do and then an idea struck me. If the Wizarding World was in shambles, they wouldn't be able to find my information, and I doubted that my potential employers would look deep enough to find the disturbing evidence that Nell Johnson was really Hermione Granger, a Muggle turned witch years ago, or if they would even believe it. Determined, I wrote down all of my real information with a different name. Hermione truly was dead now, and no one would be able to change that. Not even the real Hermione Granger herself, I thought with a pitiful sigh. Shrugging, I told myself it didn't matter anyway. I could never go back. I was moving on.

The next day, I went back to "BISTO" with my filled out application, perfectly written in my neat little handwriting. This time, I handed the application to an older women, hair nearly white with minimal makeup and a pursed smile. Her eyes were sharp, though, like a vulture's…and it unnerved me a little. Quickly making my exit after writing down my name and phone number, praising the renter for including phone service into the monthly rent, I failed to notice the person on the other side of the door when I opened it hastily, slamming it into someone on the other side and collapsing to the ground from the impact.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Are you…?" I rapidly spouted, looking up hastily into a pale face and dark, large sunglasses. A long-fingered hand rested on my shoulder, preventing me from rising, but the other hand came out of an invisible pocket to grasp mine warmly. Holding the door open with one foot, Sullivan helped me to rise, his warm hand distracting me from shock. I blushed as I looked back at his face, overtaken by the light scent of sandalwood emanating from him. He grunted, motioning for me to move aside, and as I did, entered the store without a backward glance. His mouth bent into a frown when he noticed me watching him and I quickly turned and fled, but not before wondering at just how familiar that particular scowl seemed to me.


	4. Learning to Lie

_Somewhere Out There: Learning to Lie_

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_

The call came two weeks later, rousing me from my sleep in the early morning. Then again, nine o'clock in the morning isn't really considered early, but I found falling asleep difficult nowadays. Nightmares plagued my dreams even now, years after the war, and what little sleep I had was a string of blissful insanity. However, I managed to be somewhat coherent, answering her questions and setting a time for later that day to be interviewed. I groaned as I looked at the clock, figuring out that if I wanted to be ready, I needed to pull myself out of bed.

My feet hit the floor with a loud thud and I trudged through the daily routine with as little passion as possible. Time had hit me hard, playing tricks on my age and appearance as I stared in the mirror at my pitiful reflection. Where my eyes used to be filled with life and energy, it seemed as if the bright amber color they used to be faded to a dull brown, dead as a torn branch from a tree, rotting in the midday sun. Dark circles ringed them faintly from lack of sleep; I finally understood what leading a double life did to a person. Age was little more than something to be covered up and hidden, cosmetics hiding what a soul could not. I looked at least five years old than I was. Reality was harsh, a livid bruise that lingers throughout time, and I was living it.

I didn't have enough money for cosmetics, the meager amount I had left going towards the rent that was close to being late, so I would have to make do. I brushed my unruly hair hastily as I tamed it back into a ponytail. I decided on a nicer pair of dark jeans and a dressy shirt for the interview, my pants a little loose from losing a few pounds. Eating on a budget did that to you after I while, I figured, but this job had it all for me. Glancing at the clock, I figured it was time to leave. Locking the door behind me, I walked down the steps with my little black loafers, and to the gleaming white goddess that would save me.

I found out quickly that what time I would spend there would be absolute hell. I walked in that day in my nice jeans and dressy shirt to a child screaming about her slushie, which was currently spraying bright green ice all over the floor from the cup's busted bottom, a line at the register back to the entrance, and to top it all off, as soon as I walked in, it started to rain…heavily. Secretly, I prayed that the rain wouldn't last too long, the child would stop screaming, and the green puddle would stop spreading so far and so fast. I waited patiently until the mother with the screaming child paid the bill and the line was gone before I went up to the counter.

The lady with the pursed lips and sharp eyes stood there, looking down at me. "How can I help you today?" she stated in a slightly nasal, high-pitched voice.

"Ma'am, I'm here for an interview with Amber. I'm Nell. Nell Johnson."

"I tell her you're here…" she trailed off with an accusatory glare at me, as if I was trying to take her job from her. I backed up a bit, a slight trace of fear in my eyes and she smirked at me, before turning to leave.

"Ummm…Ma'am?" She looked back, scowling at me with a frown on her lips. An image of Professor McGonagall flashed through my mind before I pushed it away, blinking tears away as it went. "Do you have a mop?"

Her face was confused for a moment before her eyes lit up. "The slushie!" she yelped before she ran back out of sight where seconds later I heard sloshing water. I guess they did have a mop. As I stood there next to the ever-growing puddle that was rapidly invading my shoe's space, I thought that the color would be much more appealing if it were darker. Soon enough, a door somewhere in the back opened and the lady emerged with the mop and bucket, pushing it towards the green-tinted floor. I held out my hands, gesturing to the mop handle, and the woman looked at me a little strangely before ringing it out and giving it to me.

"I can do that. It is my job."

"Yes, I know…but it's spreading onto my shoe. I would like to keep these shoes clean for as long as possible," I told her with a smile, which she returned, shocking me a bit. Her eyes were much less harsh when they scrunched up towards her eyebrows. Making a mental note to make her smile more often, I hastily cleaned off my shoe and was scrubbing the floor when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Startled, I jumped at least a foot, slamming my chin against the top of the mop handle. Rubbing my chin with watering eyes, I turned and looked into gray eyes.

"Hello. I'm Amber. You must be Nell. Sorry I startled ya."

Reaching for her extended hand, I grasped and shook it warmly. "It's alright. I was absorbed," I admitted, blushing faintly to my roots. Awkwardly standing there, mop handle in hand and pale face, I was sure that I made the perfect picture of a nobody, staring at my potential employer. I took the mop, placed it in the bucket, and gestured. "Do you want me to put that back first?"

"No, it's fine. Lynn can get it," she said, pointing at the older lady. "Follow me."

I followed her back into the office, sitting on a metal chair, hands and keys in my lap. She pulled out a questionnaire, having me fill it out along with all of my information again. She asked me questions during the process, having me describe some of the questions in more detail. Overall, I thought it was quite easy, answering the questions with confidence and precision. Finally, when I was finished, I handed back the paperwork and waited.

"You come with a very interesting recommendation, Nell Johnson. However, your answers surprised me and you seem to be a quick study. I think you would do well here. When could you start?"

My mouth gaped open as I stared at her. I'd expected at least another interview, possibly two, before I was even considered. I was overjoyed, yes, but as I closed my mouth sharply, I was also wary. She said I came with a "recommendation", but I knew no one in this town. It was a puzzle to me, my eyes narrowing a bit when she kept talking.

I asked her quickly, "What recommendation?" in my harshest tone, not caring if it lost me the job.

She faltered for a moment before saying, "Sadie. She gave you the recommendation from the day you were in here. She liked you and, since you'll be working mostly with her, I thought it would be best if I put together two people that got along. Sadie's very strong-willed, and while I think she is a wonderful employee, she is a bit harsh sometimes. You have a bit of steel in you, though. You'll need that to work in this place. Besides, I'm sure both of you will get along fine. What do you say?" she finished, echoing the thought and extending her hand. "Are you in?"

Somehow, I knew she was lying, but survival kicked in. In a town this small, I would find out soon enough. Mick had said gossip never stayed secret for long. I just had to wait it out, and with an inner smile, I had a feeling Sadie talked too much anyway. That used to be me, I frowned, always wanting to give the right answer first…how much I'd changed. Nodding to Amber, I extended my hand with a near-vicious smile.

"I am."

My next stop was the clothing store down the street. Amber told me I needed dark dress pants, but I didn't have any, so she pointed me to the secondhand store down the street. I was of average size with slightly broad hips, but she said I might find something that would fit. I stepped inside and proceeded to look for my size. The glaring fluorescents above made the bright, garish hues stand out much like the neon green slushie. Quickly bypassing those, I made a beeline for the darker hues, finding my size without much trouble. I picked out a few muted grays and blacks to try them on, discovering that many of them fell off of my hips. I looked at myself in the mirror and finally realized how much weight I'd lost.

In the harsh light, the dark circles were even more prominent, my once-crazed hair lacking its boisterous curls that now fell into haphazard waves over my shoulders. Mousy brown didn't go with pale skin, I thought, and I decided vitamins were probably in order if I could afford them. Once-full hips were now bony, the bones jutting out just a bit on the sides and as I lifted my shirt, I could see a faint outline of my ribs when I stretched. I dropped my shirt, grabbing the pairs of pants that fit and walked to the counter. There was no hope on getting them all to fit, so I put most of them back, telling myself I could pin the rest if I lost more weight.

When the lady was ringing my purchases up, I glanced at the earring turnstile for a moment. As I spun it around, I noticed the little H-shaped earrings dangling on a fine golden chain. A tear came to my eye when I thought about who I used to be, Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire and star pupil. I picked them up and laid them on my purchases. One dollar for a pair of small gold earrings wouldn't set me back too far and they would make my face glow. At least, that's what I told myself. Even though I could lie to everyone else about who I was, I couldn't lie to myself. I pushed that thought away, refusing to dwell on it. The past was dead. I was just having trouble moving on.

Upon arriving at the apartment, I was surprised to find a small kitten mewling at my door. Softly setting the small bag down on the concrete floor, I extended my hand to the frightened little thing, pitiful with its matted fur and weak howl. It walked shakily over to me, one eye crusted closed as it lost its balance, toppling into my hands. I hastily put the key in the door, opened it, and set the kitten in the middle of the kitchen floor. After I'd shut the door with my purchases inside, I set about preparing a makeshift litter box and a bowl of milk for the poor thing. The milk was quickly devoured and I ran the water to bathe it while it peed in the litter box. I had guessed putting it close was a good idea and since it had barely made it to the box before it peed in the first place, I was right. Picking it up, I set about bathing it, carefully washing the crust out of its eyes and cleaning its fur. By the time I finished, the water was black and the kitten was a pale yellow color with luxurious short fur and bright brown eyes.

I called it Lynx because its ears had little tufts on the end, much like the larger animal, and its eyes were large for its age. As I sat in the overstuffed, aging armchair, I placed the small kitten into my lap where it kneaded my legs and stomach until it found an appropriate place to be comfortable. I mindlessly stroked its drying fur, not caring about the wet patch now seeping into my pants, and looked into its contented face. An ear twitched when my thumb got too close to it…and it reminded me of Crookshanks and his slight irritation at the smallest things. However, when I thought about him almost eating Peter Pettigrew in rat form, I shivered, hoping this kitten could learn to survive on cat food and the occasional insect. I wasn't about ready to have mice left on my door as presents when I arrived home from work.

Yawning widely, I looked at the clock on the wall phone. It was nearly ten o'clock and I had work at two in the afternoon tomorrow…since Amber was adamant about training me as soon as possible. Deciding a bit of sleep was in order, even if it was futile in the long run, I lifted the kitten into my arms and placed it on the small bed. It immediately nestled back down on the foot of the mattress as I disrobed, put on a battered pair of faded cotton shorts and an old t-shirt, and then climbed into bed. My head hit the soft pillow and my tattered body felt perfectly at home in the rather soft, cheap sheets I had purchased months ago. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep in my perfect little land of nightmares.

As expected, I couldn't sleep through the night, bathed in sweat and salty tears when I woke up, fighting away visions of Ron, Harry, and all the others. I always dreamt of the Final Battle, pouring rain and many-colored lights sweeping across the grounds of Hogwarts. Red, greens, oranges, and even the stray blue and yellow curses had flown through the storm, many of them accurately hitting their targets. It had been a night of torturous screams, devilish laughter, mourning, and death.

Bellatrix and I had met at one point during the battle, her bloodlust overpowering her sanity that night. We'd fought, the clashing of an insane mind and one fighting for survival. She was fast with her curses and even faster with her Unforgivables. While we were dueling, I saw Ginny fall in a flash of green light, broken and battered across the grass of Hogwarts. Enraged, I flew at Bellatrix, blaring spells of elemental power at her, but even that wasn't enough. I was hit with her hex as I turned to my side as she cast it in succession three times. Tracing the raised, jagged scars on my left side, I remembered the absolute blinding pain as I'd fallen, unable to move and covered in blood. As blackness claimed me, I had heard an unearthly scream as Bellatrix fell, her soul ripped from her body and banished to the darkest regions of hell.

Someone had taken me from the grounds of Hogwarts to a wizarding underground after that. Each bed had been separated by thick, pale curtains, sheltered from the world around it, and when I first arrived there, I had wondered why. I had been healed, though the scars would always be a reminder of the Final Battle, and given false Muggle papers to flee the country. One night before my departure, I had asked the nurse about the curtains. Her mouth had lifted into a sad smile and her eyes hardened like steel as she answered my question in a light, airy voice.

"The curtains are there for the same reason that we use Polyjuice to disguise ourselves, even to our fellow Healers. Who can we trust now, Miss Johnson?" she said, using my false Muggle name, getting me used to the realization that I now live a different life. "We cannot Polyjuice the patients for fear of poisoning them with some of the Dark curses we've encountered. These magic curtains were the only other option," she replied as she placed her hand through the imaginary curtain, but it didn't shimmer, just parted around her hand. "They shelter you, the patient, as much as us, the healers. When you leave, you will be sent with a vial of Polyjuice, enough to get you out of the country and to America. There, the plan is for you to start a new life in America and forget about the magical world. For some, such as yourself, it will be much easier than others to adjust to the Muggle life. You are also young and beautiful, able to start a family and live your life as it should have been, happy, and with freedom."

I had blinked back tears, remembering Ron and his promises, the ring still around my neck and warm from my skin. Then, I looked at her. She was by no means old, still of childbearing years, with black hair and deep blue eyes which would warm with her smile. As I took this in, she turned away from me, drawing breath to speak again.

"You must remember, Miss Johnson; I am under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. In actuality, this particular person is dead, killed in the Final Battle of Hogwarts. She also was young, but unlike you, she was pregnant. Her child never got to see the world she lived in, go to Hogwarts, or even cry. Remember that when you leave."

I'd never forgotten it. As I stretched, I smacked into a soft lump at the foot of the bed. A soft mewl reminded me of the kitten I'd taken in as my own earlier, the sound not unlike a baby's first cry. I cried myself back to sleep that night, just like any other night, dealing with the demons I tried to hide to start over. Somehow, it never worked.


	5. Touches of Remembrance

_Somewhere Out There: Touches of Remembrance_

* * *

I awoke to the sun shining in my eyes, the golden light peacefully breaking the early morning gloom. Stretching, I hopped out of bed, glaring at the sunrays filtering through the glass. They seemed to shrink back a little under my gaze, making me a bit happier about the situation, but I still could have used the extra hour of dreamless sleep. It was times like these when I wished I could brew at least a simple potion such as that. Sleep was one of those things a body needed desperately to function, and I couldn't afford to shut down, at least not now. I had obligations other than my own to fulfill, my Gryffindor stubbornness not about to let me quit when the going got tough. However, right now, I needed a good, hot shower and a toothbrush. I picked out my clothes for the day, setting them on the bedspread next to the pale yellow kitten, still sleeping in the morning light, and then walked to the bathroom.

When I emerged, I immediately noticed that Lynx had forgotten about the litter box, this time using the entire kitchen floor to pee instead. The smell had carried into the bathroom as I finished my shower and was tying back my unruly waves. I bolted to the kitchen, quickly cleaning up what of the mess I could, but not before splashing cat urine onto my shoes. I cursed as I considered what a perfect day this seemed to beginning to be already. Crossing my fingers, I hoped it improved as I went to work for my first full day, eager to learn and much more eager for the paycheck to come. Closing the door behind me, I quickly looked up at the sky before I left. Sun glared down into my eyes for a moment before I looked away. I guessed that "bright and cheerful" was the forecast for the next eight hours of my life, or so I hoped.

When I got to work, the lot was completely full of cars and every pump was filled. I took a deep breath, walking in the door quickly, dashing behind the counter to the office. For the second time in a week, I landed flat on my backside, staring up at a much taller man. This time, however, it wasn't Sullivan that pulled me up to stand, but a much rounder, younger man whose nametag said "Dustin." He was smirking at me, biting his lip to keep from laughing at me. I blushed furiously, clutching my small bag in my hands tightly while looking at the floor.

"You must be Nell."

Nodding my head frantically, I brushed myself off. "I didn't want to be late," I mumbled.

He laughed, a short barking laugh that caught me off guard, startling me. Giving me an odd look, he pushed me forward towards the open register, my nametag clutched in his hand. He gave it to me, motioning for me to put it on, before asking me another question.

"Have you ever worked in retail before?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No, but it's not too difficult, right?" I was hopeful that it would be easy to learn and master something so simple.

The smile appeared again, a little less crooked this time. "We'll see how you do at the end of the night. Look sharp and be confident. Don't let anything stress you out. Be prepared for anything. I'll show you how to sign in."

After he led me through a few basic transactions, he worked on the other register while I ran, very slowly, on my register. Even though he'd told me to stay calm, I quickly noticed people are impatient and feel as if they have the right to take their bad day out of the person behind the register. I had people repeat things to me; something many of them thought was completely unnecessary, even though I did not understand what they said half of the time. Sure, I knew English, but what they were saying did not sound like English at all. By the end of an hour, I was frustrated and had a massive headache…and I still had seven more to go.

Dustin noticed and went into the office for a minute or two, disappearing from sight at this point, leaving me to the mercy of humanity. I heard a rustle as an older man with dark hair came to the counter with a coffee cup and…bananas? My eyes widened, praying for a barcode stamped into the side of one of these bananas, but that would only be wishful thinking. I called for Dustin, but no sound answered at all. I bit my lip hard out of nervousness, bruising it and wincing at the pain, yet I couldn't move. This was the perfect time for my mind to go completely blank, I thought to myself, as I looked at the older gentleman standing there.

"There should be a banana button on the register somewhere, ma'am," he motioned with a slightly unsteady hand.

I searched and searched until I found it, a gray patterned button with the word "Banana" barely visible. I pressed it and the register beeped, registering "Amount Too Small." More confused than when I started, I looked back at the older gentleman who merely smiled and pointed to the bananas. I looked at the banana rack, noticing a sign above them reading "49 cents per pound." My eyebrows went up as I looked at the bananas, attempting to judge their weight by looking at them and bit my lip again. A small laugh made me look up.

"I think you weigh them first. There is a scale somewhere," he spoke in his thick accent, rolling his r's quite a bit.

Looking around frantically, I noticed a shimmer from the bright lights in the background, grabbing his bananas and darting for it. It was indeed a scale, buried under a small mountain of expired Gardetto snack bags and one bunch of rotten bananas. I wrinkled my nose, threw those out, and tossed the older man's on the scale. When I got back, I tried entering the price and then the button; to my relief, it worked. After that, the transaction was easy and simple, and as I smiled at him again when he went to leave, he spoke.

"I know it is hard being new. You feel very lost. You will find everything in time, but it will take time. Much time for you, I think."

Puzzled at his cryptic statement, I ignored it as I moved to the next customer. I didn't have time to think about it then and hoped I wouldn't have time to think about it later. When I did think about it, hours later, I leaned on the countertop, gazing out into the empty lot that was golden-tinted with the descending sun. I did feel lost in a small town, much unlike my native Britain, which I knew nothing about. I knew nothing about these people, about my fellow co-workers, even about the people whose names I did know. This place, this modern-day marvel of a gas station in this homespun town, was not natural to them. It was a product of the modern day, something this town had trouble believing in. I had a sickening feeling that they were well aware that I was different. Before long, someone would start asking questions…questions that I wouldn't want to answer. I just hope I had some time to adjust before then.

It took me a while to get used to the ebb and flow of the system. A week passed as if it were hours, the constant flow of customers to my register keeping me well-occupied. I could recognize a few of the regulars, identify most of the cigarette brands, and remember most of the shortcut buttons. I was still nervous, Dustin had reminded me of that, and stressed out, but overall, I was improving. I had a solid schedule of eight hours the first week, but now my hours fluctuated a bit. Dustin had claimed it was preparing me for anything, yet I didn't trust him.

I did not trust any of my coworkers. Establishing bonds with these people seemed to alienate myself even more from the magical world, one that while I was no longer a part of it, I held close to my heart. The excitement, yet monotony of this place kept me on my toes, forcing me to think quickly, be prepared, and let go a little. The silence I had learned during the war was invaluable against the tide of rude, harried bits of humanity that entered our doors on a daily basis. It was also disconcerting because I cared about these people. I wanted these little moments to push them towards accepting me into their world. It was all about what I could gain from this arrangement…which I considered was very Slytherin of me.

For the very first time in my life, I considered if the Sorting Hat had placed me right. Would I still be here today if the Hat had placed me in Hufflepuff where my Muggleborn status would have made no difference to those sitting under the badger's banner? Could I have taken the intellectual challenge and dedication to my studies as the many Ravenclaws did and been as silent during the war? Could I have held my own in a power-hungry house of snakes that watched my every Mudblood move? Why was I a Gryffindor to begin with?

Sure, I was smart, determined, and most certainly sought to achieve with my ambitious nature, but those aligned me with other houses, such as Slytherin. I was dedicated to my friends, my studies, and my growth in learning, but these were Ravenclaw traits, the lot of them. I craved the power of knowledge and of intellect, not the bravery and honor for which Gryffindor had been made. Yes, I will admit I have the sharp tongue and rashness of a Gryffindor at times…well, most of the time.

It held me confused, torn between the truths in the Sorting Hat to the errors of the human mind. Humans, wizards, had made the Hat and imbued it with its power to choose between the four. They made it to be a necessity to prune their chosen wizards to their specific talents. The Hat, now lost in the Wizarding World, was a very powerful item, knowingly deciding the destiny of whatever child's head on which it would sit. It was old, wise, and had seen more than its share of troubled times, but still it Sorted, as it was meant to do when it was created. Human error had created the disasters of the Wizarding World today, qualities aside or not. It was a devastating blow to finally realize the manipulation of humans, even subconsciously, that was committed by the very wizards the hearts of Hogwarts held dear.

Out of habit, I clutched my chest, feeling for the ring that lay there buried under the layers of clothing that I wore. It was my last link to the world in which I grew up and flourished, but I remembered at the last second I had left it in the box, leaving it on the bedside table nearly a week ago. It was not a reality anymore, just a memory and a remembrance of something that could have been, but was never to be. Still, I vowed to get it out of the box and wear it, to be strong and courageous, a reminder that the little Gryffindor fire, whether it was placed there out of deception or choice, was never to die.

Those thoughts made me smile until I was nudged back to reality by…a coffee cup? Focusing on the dark liquid and the slight whisper of steam forced my eyes up into the drawn face of Sullivan. An arched eyebrow at my awkward expression allowed me to shake the cobwebs clear and nervously ring him up. It embarrassed me that he had caught me daydreaming, especially since I hadn't seen him enter the store or even hear the bell ring, and my fingers shook a little as they hovered above the keys on the register. My brain went blank yet again as I looked down at the many-colored keys, again biting my lip in concentration. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lip as his posture relaxed a little, the stiffness of formality ebbing away slowly.

"314. If that helps any," he said in a low tone, slight fatigue etched onto his face.

Smiling, I looked up at him again, a piece of my hair falling in my face when I spoke. "No, actually, that is what I needed to know," I remarked as I pressed the proper keys, took his money, and gave him his change. "Have a nice day?"

With a sharp nod, he turned on his heel, quickly striding away through the door and into the little black car parked in front of the building. My confused look threw Sadie into laughter when she returned, watching the car with Sullivan inside drive away, throwing a quick, unnoticed wave towards the car.

"You look as if you certainly did something stupid right there, even though ya didn't. Sullivan's always been a bit…untalkative. I'd swear the man was born that way."

"I just told him to 'Have a nice day'! How was I supposed to know he would have gotten offended at a simple goodbye?" Exasperated, I threw up my hands, grabbing down a few racks of coffee cups, intent on stocking them and stewing on his abrupt and very rude departure. As I forcefully stocked the cups, I felt my anger flow away and confusion replace it. Usually customers responded to that question with gusto, spewing out meaningless words of thanks or cursing me for being slow and incompetent. Sullivan had just left without a grunt or anything. A blessing and a curse in itself, I guessed, as my motions slowed to a more noticeably relaxed pace.

"He gets offended at lots of things. One thing that man is not free of is pet peeves. This area, for example," she stated, pointing to the urns and dairy station of the coffee section from her register, "has to be completely clean or he'll ask for a towel to wipe it himself before preparing his daily coffee. Usually he comes in more than once a day, but he's been in more in the mornings now. You'll notice him after a while and get used to what he wants…just like any other customer."

I wrinkled my nose a bit, instinctively knowing there was more to this man than meets the eye, but I didn't argue. Sadie had been working for longer than I had, knowing a bit more about the patterns of these people and their lives. It interested me in a way, the lives of these people and how they intertwined. At school, I hadn't really thought about why certain people interacted with others or the qualities of the relationships each person had with the other. Here, working in the closest thing to a convenience store, we saw people, their friends, and their habits from a different point of view. Intriguing as it was, sometimes it was also painful to watch the interactions. Friends, like anyone else, fought with words that were meant to seek pain. Slightly different here than the Wizarding World, I still heard the pain, anger, and venom that some of the words portrayed. Curious about it, I asked Sadie.

"Why do all these people come here?"

Sadie looked at me with a perplexed look on her face, her bright green eye makeup glittering in the light. "What do ya mean? It's a store. We sell things that people want to buy. Why wouldn't they come here?" Again, she gave me the oddest of looks before going back to cleaning the drink stations. "You're very odd, Nell."

"I already know that," I claimed, dismissing that comment with a wave of my hand. "I want to know why they come here. Our coffee is expensive, considering it is much cheaper to buy a regular tin of it at the grocery, and nothing else is very cheap either. Most of the people that come to this store have food stamps; something that I am sure could go a lot further elsewhere than here, but they come here instead. Why?" I asked, pleading with Sadie to give me an answer.

"Have you ever considered they come here to see you, the little British lady? You've been the talk of the town, you have. Showing up in mid-afternoon with Mick, who is a respected citizen in this town, doesn't go unnoticed. Some old bird sees, tells the next old bird, and the story goes on. How _embellished _it gets depends upon how the gossip was misread. Don't go gettin' on anyone's bad side in this town. You won't like the consequences. Sometimes, Nell, it's better not ta ask questions…any questions at all. As much as I like you, ya need to be careful."

As she had said this, she approached the counter, her light hazel eyes narrowing at my question. Her bright green eyeshadow bore the resemblance to a large, glittering green snake, and I was taken aback by my observation. Wherever I went, I couldn't get away from the lies and the Rita Skeeters' of society's darkest recesses. I wondered how anyone dealt with it, the knowledge that your every move was watched as if it was being dissected under a microscope for someone's deeper desires. The cameras watching me constantly when I worked did nothing to compare with the tendrils of fear I felt at being watched. However, Sadie caught me back into her ramblings with a mention of a familiar face.

"Sullivan's like ya too. He's different, but he's careful. Ya'd be wise to learn a thing or two from him. He's adjusted just fine to the 'new way of life.' Everything takes a bit of getting used to, but for some, it takes longer than others."

As Sadie said this, I thought about the little old man a week ago that claimed I would need time. It seems like the sentiment was shared, but my impatient nature was resisting the truth. I always resisted the truth when it was important. I called it habit.

"Did you punch Sullivan's coffee card? It's taped to my register."

Just like that, Sadie had gone back to the normal monotony that was purely "BISTO." As I grabbed the trefoil-shaped hole punch, I located the card on the register, punching the second hole on the card. I counted those remaining coffee cups as opportunities to get to know the only one who knew what I was going through. It was a challenge to which I was looking forward, even if it seemed impossible.


	6. Will You Punch My Coffee Card?

_Somewhere Out There: Will You Punch My Coffee Card?_

* * *

Two weeks had passed since my first day at "BISTO", but it seemed like hours. Dustin finally printed me a copy of all the shortcut keys, allowing me to memorize them to make my transactions a bit faster. I was eager for the chance at another "book learning" activity, one that I am sure Ron and Harry both would have groaned about at the earliest opportunity. Even Dustin lifted an eyebrow slightly at my enjoyment for the piece of paper I held in my hand.

"Slow down there, Nell. It's not that exciting."

Folding the piece of paper, I placed it my back pocket, mentally reminding myself not to wash it as I did the last piece of paper. I was so bloody forgetful sometimes that I felt like Neville. If I was back at Hogwarts, I would have sworn a Remembrall would have gone completely red when I touched it. Unlike Neville, though, I might have actually remembered what I had forgotten in the first place.

I looked at the daily cleaning list, grabbing a heavy-duty disposable towel and heading for the coffee station. I reached underneath, opening the cupboards to stock the flavored creamers. When I first arrived in the States, I added cream, sugar, and flavor to my coffees because I was so used to my tea being the same way, except for the flavoring. After a bit, I didn't have enough money to afford the extras, so I did away with the flavoring and sugar. Nowadays, I added milk when I felt I needed it, but the bitter taste of a dark roast drew me in somehow. I much preferred it to the heavily flavored coffee I used to drink. I would always prefer tea, but the dark mystery of coffee would satisfy me for now. I seemed to like different.

Grabbing the little cups by color, I hastily threw some blue, green, and pink into the rainbow mix of assorted creamers next to the lids. I shrugged, placing the boxes back under the counter and moving to stocking the cups. One time, I had gotten my hand stuck in one of the holes, unable to get it unwrapped from around the cup I had been grasping. Both Sadie and Dustin had a wonderful laugh over it, eventually extracting me from the rubber contraption after their sides had nearly burst. I had given them a Snape-worthy glare to which Dustin shrank minutely and Sadie smiled at in an odd way. I was beginning to think that anyone who would work at "BISTO" had to be a little mental, having a strange feeling that I was extremely accurate with that assumption.

When I reached for the cleaner bottle, I was duly surprised when my hands met air. Looking up quickly and pulling my hand sharply away from the cups, I smacked my fingers against the edge of the counter. Wincing a bit at the pain, I stopped and gazed at the blue towel in my other hand and the long fingers that still held it. My gaze followed the arm those long fingers were connected to and my eyes met dark glasses. A small smile broke out on my face and my eyes lit up quickly.

Taking the towel from him, I spoke. "I didn't think you were going to show up today. It is getting rather late." At this, I gestured to the heavily darkening sky outside, making reference to the fact that he usually showed up in the mornings.

"I was occupied. Even though you seem to live here, I have a life outside of this place."

Puffing up slightly, I remarked back, "I work a lot. It is a very boring place without our regulars. This fact makes the conversations a bit more boring and day-to-day, I think. Half of them don't even know proper English and they ask the most irritating questions!" I remarked as I threw the rag back down on the counter.

"I am quite sure that the taller young man that works here, Dustin, would say that about you as well. Although I must say, he must have fun riling you up. It is entertaining." He replied, flashing me a quick smirk. "Give me that," he said, pointing at the towel.

I realized that I hadn't even cleaned the counter yet, but with his hand held out, it was rather hard to resist the man. I put it in my mind as Sadie making me lazy with her constant "smoke breaks", something I never found the need to do. As I passed him the towel, our hands touched for a moment, the warmth of his seeping into my chilled one. A slight frown crossed his features, but then he took the cleaner from the table and sprayed the counter down, effectively turning from me and ending all conversation. I moped back to the register, thoroughly annoyed that I was unable to get a full conversation out of him.

"Will you punch my coffee card?" he pointed as he came up to the register with exact change.

"Of course. Have a nice night, Sullivan."

And again, with a curt nod, he was off into the night. I glanced up at the register, punching another coffee out, realizing there were three coffee spaces yet. I didn't notice that the last one was free or that Sadie was glancing at me, puzzled at the interaction Sullivan and I just had.

Monday came round the next day, and once again, I was working. Finally, the bill on the apartment was paid and I was able to worry a little bit less about being so conservative with my funds. It was getting difficult to add up my grocery bill every time I wanted something a little different, but adding to that fact, the town still saw me as an outsider. Debating over spaghetti or rigatoni had turned into a freak show for me, being at the awkward end of anyone's stare. Two weeks had obviously not been enough time for the world to realize that Nell Johnson was going to be a semi-permanent fixture to this town. If not, she was about to scream at them to get used to the idea of her being in Deer Creek. Glaring at me as if I would Disapparate was getting to be a little old.

Stocking bananas this time, my lower lip was bitten in concentration as I placed the fresh bananas on the bottom and the ripe ones on the top, a precarious balance at which I was not being very successful. I had managed to bang my knees at least twice against the wire baskets attached to the banana cart, resulting in what would become painful bruises over the next few days. Cursing Dustin under my breath while I painstaking moved and shifted the contents of two boxes of fresh bananas, I was too absorbed to notice Sullivan's entrance.

I bent down a few more times to fix the last few bunches of bananas and arrange them on the rolling cart. Proudly, I stood back and admired my hard half hour of work, strutting back to the register much like a peacock would. With my hands on my hips, I smiled my largest grin at Dustin, who merely smiled back and leaned back on one arm. Soon after, I heard the sound of a mountain of bananas hitting the floor with rapid speed. Turning my head from Dustin's gaze to the mess now on the floor, I met the gaze of the person who had ruined all my work. A slightly guilty Sullivan stared at me with a large coffee in his left hand, pointing at Dustin with his right.

"Guess ya'd better get back to work, huh, Nell?" Dustin said with a smug grin now plastered on his face.

"And I thought you weren't capable of being an ass, Dustin. Guess I was very wrong." I glared with my hands still placed on my hips, a frown now on my face.

A rich, deep laugh came from the area of the banana stand, startling me. I gazed in shock at Sullivan, who had placed his coffee on the now-empty banana rack, and was currently having a wonderful laugh at my expense. My mouth dropped open in shock as I watched his slight body shake with laughter, and as I reset it back into a thin line, my eyes shot liquid fire. I stomped from my register all the way to the banana stand, grabbing his coffee and pushing it towards his face.

"I am glad you find it so _hilarious_ at the amount of work I now have to redo because of your little stunt. You should be ashamed of yourself." Defeated, I placed the coffee into his hands, brushing my fingertips with his on accident. I colored a bit at the contact and warmth, stating, "Take your coffee and go. I'm sure you have better things to do then watch me redo this," with an emphatic gesture towards the pile of bananas now on the floor.

Nodding, he made to leave, but spoke again. "Miss Johnson, make sure your hands stay warm. I think they are getting a bit stiff. Oh, and the bananas? They were his idea." Turning again, he left, sticking his head back in to say, "Will you punch my coffee card?"

My eyes lit up again, turning towards Dustin with an evil grin on my face. "You wait. I will get my revenge eventually," I all but screamed at him in a shrill tone. I did not see Sullivan's wide smirk as I punched his coffee card and neither did I register that my chances to have a full conversation went down by one until later.

I worked with Sadie the next day, her black glasses sitting askew on her face when she walked in. I lifted an eyebrow in question, but she refused to give me an answer, merely readjusting them on her face until I nodded. The gold eyeliner and deep pink shadow across her eye glittered towards me, but I'd gotten used to the makeup by now. It was who she was.

She had been rather quiet around me lately, ever since Sullivan started to come in more during the afternoons which we worked together. I had the odd feeling she was watching me rather closely, but I made no mention of it. My safe drops were exact, I wasn't stealing from the register, and I was quick and efficient in my cleaning. Even though my transactions were still a little slow, it did not result in any lost customers. I was happy that I learned so quickly, especially since Amber trusted me with more hours which in turn equaled a larger paycheck. As much as I hated to admit it, living paycheck to paycheck was stressful, especially since I was setting a little bit aside for Felicia on each one.

Opening a bank account at the small centralized bank hadn't been very difficult. It had been much like filling out an application with a few more additions. Of course, there had been the stares and whispers, but like always, one good glare effectively silenced them. I was beginning to understand why Snape said so little. Truthfully, he never really had to since the glare had worked. That is, except when Harry was being incredibly thick, although neither Harry nor Snape would ever admit it. I was inwardly thankful that I had a lot of practice being on the receiving end of the "glare", since I seemed to have copied it rather well. I smiled a bit at that.

We had a routine; Sadie and I did. Usually, I would work the main register since it made it easier for her to take her "smoke breaks" while she cleaned outside, gossiped a little with the old birds, and did most everything. She claimed it was better training for me, since she was only a microphone call away, but I highly doubted that was the reason. As much as I got along with her, she was a terrible flirt, an experienced liar, and a bit flighty. I didn't mind one bit that she was different than I, but after a while, the lines got a bit long and I was testy. Her assistance was always needed when she was "occupied," so I dealt on my own. Always the independent little Gryffindor, I told myself from time to time.

I was stocking cigarettes when I heard the door open. I welcomed the customer, but I got no response, which wasn't terribly unusual. Opening another carton of Marlboro Mediums, I kept working, humming a lullaby tune I learned from Lavender Brown years ago. It was a lovely little tune, easy to remember, and it reminded me of Hogwarts every time I sang it. The little reminder of happier times always brought a sad smile to my face, and my hands slowed down a bit in their actions. I blinked a few times to clear the unexpected tears that thought brought to my face, the melody faltering for just a moment in my mind.

"Are you feeling well, Miss Johnson?" a deep voice with a faint British accent sounded out.

Turning quickly, my head spun a bit and my hands flung outward for balance. Sullivan's brow creased, as if in worry, but his eyes were hidden behind the large sunglasses and therefore, unreadable. His steaming coffee sat on the counter near my register, uncapped as of yet, the intoxicating smell of freshly brewed coffee drawing me closer.

"I am quite fine," I said, a bit perturbed.

"I was merely asking…" he said, his tone softer than usual. "The melody, it seems…familiar."

Blushing, I stammered, "I wasn't aware I was humming that loudly. It is a little child's lullaby…I learned it from a friend a few years ago."

"It is very…beautiful," he said, bending his head down as a light flush came into his cheeks, standing out against his pale skin in a bright tinge of pink.

I was confused at his gestures, but I made no comment, ringing him out in the uncomfortable silence that followed. After the cup stayed at my register for a moment afterwards, I grabbed the lid, snapping it closed over the cup and closing the coffee's warmth and smell inside, resting my hands on the lid for a moment. Unexpected, his hands shot up, covering mine completely and startling me. I felt the small calluses on the tips of his fingers as they ran down my hands in a slight caress. Gazing up at him suddenly, I felt a slight jolt run through me and mixed emotions fill me.

"Nell, your hands are still cold," he mentioned with a small smile, but a harsh tone. "I told you to keep them warm…it prevents the joints from swelling too soon. Arthritic hands are not the most beautiful in the world." At that, he abruptly dropped my hands onto the counter, lifted his coffee and walked outside, saying, "Will you punch my card?" as he turned.

I did so, but not before looking at my hands and realizing truly how cold they actually were before rubbing them together a few times to keep the chill away. I wondered why Sullivan even cared or why I felt something every time he touched me. Putting my hands to my aching temples, I shivered at the cold touch. He was absolutely right, but all this thinking gave me a headache. I shook my head to clean out the thoughts and ring up the next person. It was going to be a long day.

It was then that I noticed I'd punched his next-to-last coffee space. The one left was free and I bit my lip in concentration. I only had one more chance.

Another week passed by, the stress getting easier, allowing Sadie and I to start relaxing a little more around each other. Truly, Sadie was my only friend in this god-forsaken town. At times, I felt like a transplant of some unwanted disease that infested the entire town, the whispers and such followed me all the way home and beyond. Even though my Gryffindor bravery had allowed me to ignore most of them, some cut deep beyond the skin. I felt unwanted and alone, one of the few things I never seemed to be able to get away from after the war. Even as a Muggle, something I used to be, I couldn't find a proper home. A light push startled me out of my thoughts.

"Nell, I've been calling you for at least a minute! What the hell are you doing?"

Looking down into my hands, I saw two sleeves of Polar Pop cups. Lifting them up to her face, I gave a small, fake smile to her. Throwing up her hands, she left me to my work, flashing a huge grin at me to which I responded with a raised eyebrow. That made her laugh and I smiled back. I was beginning to trust her just a little. I stocked the soda station and as I was going to stock the coffee station, I thought about Sullivan.

He was an enigma to me still. It had been at least three weeks since I'd initially met him, but I still knew nothing about him except what Sadie had told me. Considering Sadie knew very little about him, this alone meant I knew very little as well. I had found out for myself that he had a wonderful, heartfelt laugh, but his face was always tinged with a hint of fatigue, as if he never slept well. It must just be this town, I smiled, that made the people not sleep well at night.

I'd noticed over time that there was a sense of unease that nearly every person brought in to "BISTO" when they came in. Eyes were always watching the others, intent on constant vigilance, as if a turned back could cost much more than a life. Even Sadie, as young and innocent as she was, watched everyone with a wary eye. It was a silent war going on not through physical means, but by emotional ones. There was a constant need of acceptance in this small town life. Friends watched their friends closer than their enemies. Overall, it was unnerving, making me realize Sullivan was more to me than just a customer. He was the bit of normalcy in this town, the loner that searched for the other loner not through physical means, but a meeting of minds and familiarity.

"I think he likes you," Sadie said from the counter.

"Who likes me?"

"Sullivan."

I was startled at her revelation, considering I felt it to be completely wrong.

"Sadie, he's a customer!"

"That doesn't make any difference. He's a man."

"Oh, bloody hell, I know he's a man! I just don't think he particularly cares too much for me." I blushed, remembering the jolt that our touching hands had produced a week earlier.

Sadie's hazel eyes glittered beneath the dark blue shadow, noticing my deep blush. "That's where I think you're wrong. He likes you," she stated, crossing her arms and staring at me with a knowing glance.

I realized at that point she wanted me to admit it. This was a game to her, a juicy piece of gossip that she would not be able to keep a secret. I thought about the rumors such an infatuation could start and I shivered involuntarily. I would rather keep my personal secrets to myself, but as I looked at her, I saw a glimpse of what Sadie was behind the hard façade she showed to customers. She was a young, innocent girl who wanted any answer, insignificant or not. Instead of answering her, however, I asked a question.

"Why do you think he likes me? I am nothing special."

She pondered over this a minute before responding, "He talks to you. You are the only one around here who he talks to each and every time he comes in. With Lynn, he gets his coffee, pays and walks out, smiling at her before he leaves. It's the same with me, although he talks to me sometimes, never like he talks to you, though." With a grin, she continued. "He also has never touched anyone besides you." At my shocked gaze, she stopped for a moment. "I think you might be something special to him."

I thought about that briefly, playing the images in my mind of the interactions Sullivan and I had over the past few weeks. There was something familiar to me in his gait, his speech, and his actions. As I stood there for a longer time, my thoughts finally meshed and my eyes widened in shock. It couldn't be. It was too much like fate, both of us meeting here in the small town of Deer Creek in the States. The word impossible shouted itself through my brain before all the color drained from my face. He'd been flirting with me this entire time and I had never figured it out! I let out a sharp gasp of surprise when I thought about it.

My gaze turned sharply to the left when I heard the bells on the door signal and met a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Nell, are you feeling well?" Sadie said urgently from the counter.

"Why, hello, Professor Snape," I whispered before I promptly passed out cold on the tile floor beneath me.


	7. Reality Has A Price

_Somewhere Out There: The Price of Reality_

* * *

I awoke to glaring florescent lights, a cold floor, and a soft touch on my forehead. I blinked a few times, attempting to focus on the dark shapes in front of my face, succeeding to meet bright blue glasses and worried grey eyes. Smiling weakly, I struggled to sit up, currently cradled in someone's strong arms. As the faint scent of sandalwood hit my nostrils, I realized just whose arms they were, stiffening immediately and refusing to meet his eyes. I looked instead to Sadie, whose eyes darted between mine and Professor Snape's, trying to get her head around this entire situation that had played out in a manner of minutes.

"I guess you're not feeling well," Sadie stammered out nervously.

"Nonsense, I am completely fine," I replied, ignoring the snort that came from behind me. "I felt a little light-headed for a minute, though, and I should have sat down sooner. However, I assure you, I am perfectly fine." Again, I struggled to sit up, this time succeeding, only to groan as the dizziness came back in full force and the pounding headache that followed, my eyes narrowing in pain.

The pitch of Sadie's voice rose dramatically as she rambled on. "You can't be! You're all pale, your hands are ice-cold, and…"

"That is enough, Sadie. Miss Johnson's collapsing should be enough to confirm that she is not well. Unless you must push further, I must insist you let her rest," Snape said in a commanding tone.

"I have to call Amber! Nell is in no condition to work like this. She can't even sit up without looking like she's going to vomit!" As she rose to walk to the phone, my hand pulled her back down, her face closer to mine, the golden eyeliner twinkling in the light.

"Sadie, I cannot lose this job. You will not tell Amber _any _of this, do you promise? This is nothing but a freak accident. Now," I continued, getting to my feet and ignoring the pain, "I was just going to tell you that we were out of Natural Light singles in the beer cooler. There might be some in the back, but could you check please?"

Sadie gave me a look, but Snape's glare immediately closed off any retort she could have had, prompting her to smash through the light metal employees' door with a crash. Wincing at the sharp sound, a hand on my shoulder turned me towards dark glasses and a minute frown pasted on a pale face.

"What time does your shift end?" he asked me.

Glancing at the clock, I replied, "Four hours."

"Do not leave until I arrive. I'll pick you up." At this, he turned to leave, scowl firmly in place. I grabbed his arm roughly, making him glance over his shoulder with disdain.

"I want answers, Snape," I claimed with an icy tone.

"Don't we all, _Nell Johnson_?" he spat out with the same disdain he showed on his face, shaking his arm from my grasp. At the next crash of the metal door, we both glared at it. He turned abruptly and left, the door's bell making a high-pitched noise as he left without looking back.

Glancing at the clock again for the second time, I wished the hours to go by faster. I wanted, no, needed the answers I hoped Snape would give me.

When fifteen minutes of my shift remained, I glanced out the doors to see the shimmer of two headlights pull into "BISTO", the black car parking near the front entrance and its occupant removing himself from the car, this time without his glasses. His dark gaze met mine with an intensity that made me shiver. My body's response was completely alien to me. I wasn't supposed to be attracted to this man. He had left the Order of the Phoenix in shambles and condemned us all to die. I was supposed to hate him.

Yet, I could not. He was vulnerable, human as I was, and prone to the fate of human error. Fatigue had etched itself on his face, deep lines carved from years of service to the Dark Lord, a cruel master with one cruel fate. I wondered if the Dark Mark still lingered on his skin, the remnants of a loyalty all had questioned in the past. That was merely one of the questions I wanted to ask him, but this time, instead of bursting with anticipation to ask questions, I dreaded what I was going to hear. In my mind, I severely doubted his image of the Final Battle would be the same as mine. He was a Death Eater, still is a Death Eater, I pondered as I mentally corrected myself. How was I sure that he wasn't going to ship me off to Lord Voldemort the second I left this building?

The bell of the front door sounded as Snape entered, the tall, brooding man in a black, long-sleeved shirt, tailored black pants, and a deep green tie. However "professional" he looked contrasted significantly with the scowl firmly placed on his face, the deep lines accenting the sharp planes of his face in the harsh light. Sadie's eyes widened as he walked back through the door, throwing me a questioning glance as she turned to reach three packs of Pall Mall Reds. I didn't respond, bent on ignoring him and her until the end of my shift. Considering that I had ten minutes left, I started to count down my drawer, focusing on writing down the right amounts and not thinking of the light scent of sandalwood that now lingered around my register. I lifted my head up for a moment, eyes glaring, merely to find him looking on with an uninterested expression on his face.

With an irritated huff, I went back to my work, counting the dimes twice because of the distraction to make sure I was right. With a quick slam I shut my drawer, proceeding to close and print my totals for the night. I took extra time double-counting and re-adding all of my figures, making him very impatient, but I figured making him wait might make him answer my questions solely to get rid of me. He never particularly cared for Gryffindors much anyway. I smiled to myself as I thought this, stapling my reports to my log paper and tossing them in the drawer near the office. I grabbed my purse, clocked out, and walked out the door. I didn't look back, but unless Snape wanted to stand there for hours, I figured he would know to follow me.

"Get in," he commanded as the car emitted a noise and unlocked the doors. Dutifully, I followed, taking great care in buckling my seatbelt and holding my purse close to me. From the lights of "BISTO", I could see the tiredness in his eyes, and as he turned towards me to back out of the space, the dark circles under his eyes were haunting and stark against his pale skin. Biting my lip, I realized he probably didn't sleep much either under the circumstances.

I turned away, looking out the window on the other side, seeing the dark outline of trees against the midnight blue sky, the stars barely visible next to "BISTO", and felt a slight tug when the car began to move. A CD player had turned on sometime before and the haunting voice of a female sang to me through the car speakers. Just as quickly, Snape turned down the volume, leaving an empty silence where the music once was.

"Which way do I turn?" Snape asked, meeting my eyes for the first time that night.

"Go left, then two blocks straight. After that, turn right, and go four blocks, but stop before you reach the clothing store. I live in the apartments."

We drove in silence after that, Snape weaving his way through the streets of White Pine with the familiarity of a long-time resident. I gazed out the windows as the houses passed us by, some discarded toys still on the lawns, poised to collect the next morning's dew. I blinked once, twice, but the tears wouldn't stop this time. I finally had my connection to the magical world; it was nothing like I expected it would have been.

There was a sense of ignorance in being Muggle, survival and hope no longer in the forefront of the mind, but the loss was unbearable. As I turned my gaze from the window, the streetlights reflected off the tear tracks on my cheeks, making them blink with an unearthly light. Fate seemed so unrealistic, especially since I was sitting in an automobile with Severus Snape, feared Potions Master of Hogwarts and known Death Eater, crying my eyes out because the only link I now had to the magical world was a sarcastic, bitter, and evil man. Fate was cruel.

I sensed the motion of the car slow to a crawl, then stop completely. As he parked and turned the key in the ignition, I finally broke the silence, unable to stand it any longer.

Bitterly, I broke out, "Why?" the only question I was able to ask, yet a multitude at the same time.

"A madman knows no difference between Muggle and Wizard, Miss Granger. The difference between friend and enemy became blurred in the Dark Lord's eyes after time," he remarked with a deep sadness. "Even Death Eaters were not spared."

"You mourn for those…killers? They murdered my family, my friends, my mentors, and everything I loved in one final sweep of madness! How can you mourn them?" I asked icily.

"Miss Granger, killers they may have been, but they were also human. We are all entitled to err. It is the human way to make mistakes, sometimes devastating mistakes,' he said, clutching his left arm tightly, as if forcing away the memories to fade away.

My eyes softened at his grimace, my left hand leaving my lap to touch his elbow. He shrank away from my touch, much like a wounded animal nursing its own pain. I pulled my hand away quickly, clenching my hand into a loose ball and dropping it into my lap. Again, I noticed they were cold, but I ignored it for the moment. Looking towards the apartment building, I felt the weighty silence close in and I opened the car door, letting in the sound of crickets and night frogs.

"Does it burn at times, Professor?" I questioned.

"No. He thinks us all dead, his _pathetic_ faithful," Snape spat out with malice.

"You need not hide it here," I said in a comforting tone. "Hiding the truth is futile."

"Miss Granger, I could say the same to you, except you do not know these people as I do. There is much more to them than meets the eye. Do be careful," he said, my hand still on the inside of the door.

"Professor Snape, I thought you would know I am not a complete…dunderhead," I whispered as my lips formed into a mischievous smile.

Suddenly, he turned his head forward, saying, "Nell, I think it is time for you to leave."

With a confused glance, I scooted out of the car, lifting myself and closing the door shut with a resounding sound inside the complex. The darkened window on the passenger side rolled down and I leaned in to find him looking at me. Not knowing what to say, I gave the car a pat, leaning back out the window.

"Your next coffee is free, Sullivan."

"Nothing is ever free, Miss Johnson," he claimed from inside the car, his face invisible to me as I watched him switch the car into reverse, pulling out of the space and leaving without a second glance.

I stood there, watching him leave, pondering over what we'd talked about. Realizing that he didn't give me any real answers to the question that I had asked, I cursed to myself. Fate played her part, but now I asked myself, what the hell was mine?

When I woke up the next morning, the sky was crying. Not small little teardrops either, but a torrential flood of tears pouring down and slashing into the windows with force. I groaned heavily with the realization I would be soaked before I got to work, but I prayed with all my might that it would disappear in a few hours. One click of the television was enough to tell me the rain was expected all day, dashing any hope I had of it clearing up.

As I was making breakfast, a yellow ball appeared from my bedroom, stretching out into a kitten with tufted ears and I smiled. Crookshanks would do the same, except he would use my leg to stretch, begging for a morsel of my food at the same time. Luckily, Lynx had learned to eat from the dish because I would not be fascinated about claw marks above my knee for the rest of my life. I stroked her head, the sound of content purring reaching my eyes from my seat at the table. It seems I was doing some good in the world with at least one being.

I finished eating with the kitten still weaving between my legs as I made my way to the bathroom. Braiding my hair tightly, I began to notice the lines and weariness of my own face, the mirror hiding nothing under the bathroom light. My face was still youthful, a sign of how young I still was, but there was an invisible pain hidden inside of it, the fire in my eyes dim and dying. I was getting thin, I knew, but the pay was steady. It was a part of me that didn't want to spend it on myself that kept me from doing so. I saw no point in filling an empty apartment with even emptier new memories, ones of Nell Johnson, the Muggle, not Hermione Granger, a brilliant witch extraordinaire. Lynx was enough, I thought, as the warm fur once again tickled my bare legs and ankles.

Turning away from the mirror, I trailed my fingers towards the three scars, my memories of Bellatrix at the edge of my mind. They were ugly, twisted masses glaring white against my pale skin, pink-tinged at the edges where they had been healed. The first started at the bottom tip of my shoulder blade, curving around to the front where it ended an inch below my left breast. An inch lower on my side, the next started, curving and ending just above my navel, but the last one was the worst. It was the most frontal, starting at the waist and making a line down to just above my knee while crossing my hip bone and curving around the swell of my thigh. I stared at them, gazing at them in the mirror. They looked even more disfiguring in the light and I quickly covered them again, rubbing at my side self-consciously afterward.

Dressed, I went back into the bedroom, my gaze catching on the tiny box on the old oak dresser. As my fingers grazed over the lid, I opened it, catching the glint of gold. Impulse led me to put it on, fitting it on the index finger since I'd lost weight, and the rubies glinted back at me on my right hand. It was a little gaudy now, especially with the new life I'd undertaken, but it fit me. I reasoned to myself that a little bit of beauty never hurt anyone. As if in response, the diamond caught the light and blinded me with its brilliance for a moment, before fading down to its normal glimmer. I shut the box, holding it in my hand then setting it down when I looked at the clock, cursing as I went. Silently, I prayed I wouldn't be late to work, because I would have to run and it was still raining.

As I locked the door to my apartment, I felt a presence loom up behind me and I stiffened, barely even moving to breathe. My body tensed, fit to run as if I had a wand pointed at the base of my spine. I spun around like a flash, drawing back my left hand with force as I looked into the eyes of the intruder. My hand dangled helplessly on top of the one clamped around my wrist, the rain pelting it mercilessly, as my mouth open and closed in shock as I stared deep into the eyes of Severus Snape. His mouth curved into the hint of a smile and his eyes danced in amusement as he let go of my hand, pushing me into the direction of his car.

"Miss Granger, I do not want to get soaked getting a cup of coffee. Get in the car and don't drip on my seats," he claimed as he threw himself in the driver's side, motioning for me to follow.

I followed suit, shutting the door quickly and cuddling into the warmth of the seat behind me. He pulled out of the complex, following the same route I had showed him late the night before. We rode in silence, but I gazed at him from my seat. I knew he could feel my scrutiny, yet I took in my fill. Sometime between yesterday and the present, I had stopped caring what Severus Snape would think. I was just another inconvenient connection to his haunted past, someone that meant something on a level unlike any other in this town. He would have to come to terms with that, not me. It was not my fault I ended up here. I blamed fate as I did any other time.

His raven hair was tucked back behind his ears, curving down the length of his strong jaw. The nose, always sharp and large, fit his face and its many faint lines. I saw for the first time the minuscule parts of Severus Snape, the crow's feet around his eyes, the pinkish tint to his lips set in a firm line, and the dark color of his eyes, so dark to be almost black. Never once during my scrutiny did he look towards me or tell me to stop. However, when a lock of hair fell from behind his ear and I reached up to push it away, his response was vehement.

"I do not think that wise, Miss Granger."

I left it be, dangling, concealing his eyes from me as the white gas pumps of "BISTO" finally came into view. When he parked, I unbuckled myself and turned towards him with my right hand on the car door handle.

"Don't you want your coffee? I would hardly think you would leave the automobile running if you came inside."

He pointed downwards towards the coffee cup sitting in his cup holder already before meeting my gaze.

"As I said, Miss Granger, nothing is ever free."

I nodded, lifted myself from the car, and leaned back in.

"Thank you, Professor Snape."

With a curt nod, he waited for me to close the door. I did so, watching his hands deftly move over the automatic shift to reverse and then drive off into the heavy rain. I ran inside to escape the storm, noticing I was five minutes early. I smiled, gazing over my shoulders and off into the darkened streets. I saw Sadie behind the register giving me a grin and I smiled a bit. It is not every day one finds a diamond in the rough, but I was proud to say I found human qualities in one Severus Snape. It gave this dreary world just a little bit more hope.


	8. Memories and Warnings

_Somewhere Out There: Memories and Warnings_

* * *

I twirled the ring on my finger absently, watching it glimmer in the store lights. It brought a smile to my face when I remembered the good times of the Golden Trio. We were truly inseparable, three misfits finding our own paths in the world of magic where we were either second-best, of cursed blood, or the "Chosen One." Harry hated the title, especially when the younger children followed him around like he was some kind of god. He never cared for the hero worship, worried more about how to complete the feat set before him than stroking his ego. His teenage "macho" spirit had disappeared by then, replaced by the realities of death and loss. Ron, however, always wanted to be that step ahead and for one time in his life, be really, really good at something. He wanted the recognition.

I was somewhere in the middle, behind-the-scenes yet in the forefront of the mix. Both of the boys hated my incessant need to know _everything_, but when the time came for exams, they drank from the fountain of knowledge in hopes of scraping even. Most of the time, I wasn't heartless enough to let them down, but there were many times I had considered it. As I grew older, I matured faster, watching them have their fun from the sidelines, giving gentle warnings that were never listened to no matter how stern they were. I was still a child because I wanted to drink in the last moments of freedom, but I noticed all too soon the changes in Harry and Ron, the darker changes that led Harry deeper into his own mind and Ron further away from reality. I missed the chance to be a child again, to do something so completely and unbelievably idiotic that all three of us could laugh again.

As I kept twisting the ring on my finger, I thought about the first time I met them. For the first time, I realized what a bossy little chit I really was back then. It made me smile as I thought about all the stupid things I'd done at Hogwarts; almost getting killed by a mountain troll, brewing Polyjuice Potion and changing myself into a cat, and punching Malfoy in the face only skimmed the surface of my misdeeds. I just was immature in a more "mature" way, if that made any sense…which it really doesn't. Then the war caught up with all of us, changing us and maturing us far too fast. All of us, including the adults, looked old and drawn anytime we met them when Hogwarts was the last resort. They had watched their friends die, families disappear, and their hearts no longer held up to the tortures of a sick-minded villain like they used to back then.

Still, bathed in the happy glow of memories of Hogwarts, I smiled. I would never trade in my younger years of schooling for any comparative in the Muggle world. There was no true comparative to the mystical nature of Hogwarts, its many professors and students falling in place as if it were a university setting. Its goal was to teach young minds how to make choices, the right choices, not the choices of a dark path that led nowhere. Muggle schools taught a child science, mathematics, history, but failed to point out the realities of life. Hogwarts taught that one ingredient of a potion could kill, one missed wave of the wand becomes the wrong incantation, and two words equal death. I preferred it that way. Skirting issues got no one anywhere, except it seems, for one Slytherin man.

Severus Snape had skirted the edges of loyalty and trust in the Order of the Phoenix, playing in no-man's-land between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore for so long many assumed the lines had blurred together for the wizard. After the death of Dumbledore during the Final Battle, the Wizarding World had either assumed he'd gone completely mad at the hands of the Dark Lord or had been the Dark Lord's trained assassin against Dumbledore. No one bothered to look at which Death Eater they had killed when the others ran to Dumbledore's aid. They assumed it was Snape, fallen wizard loyal to Voldemort. I huffed to myself as I realized whatever wizard had sent up that cry of joy had been summarily wrong considering Severus Snape was still a living, breathing wizard.

"Who gave you the ring? It's gorgeous!" squeaked a voice on my left.

Turning to look at Sadie, I smiled back at her awed expression. Slipping the ring off my finger, I gestured for her to open her hands. When she did, I dropped the ring in her hands so she could get a closer look at it without tearing my hand in front of her face. Her eyes sparkled and lit up when she noticed the size of the diamond and smaller rubies. They weren't very large, but she looked at them for a long moment, finally giving a wistful sigh and returning it to me.

"You never answered me. Who gave it to you?" Sadie said, her hands on her hips, waiting expectantly for an answer.

I bit my lip, remembering what Snape had said about being careful around these people before giving her my response. As much as I hated to listen to Snape, I knew he was right, especially in this town. The town newspaper was nothing more than a gossip rag, taking innocent peoples' private lives and baring them to the scrutiny of the public eye. I inwardly swore at the baseness and stupidity of people. At times, I felt as if I was walking on pins and needles, being careful to avoid the sharp points of brutality that these people were more than capable to commit, only with words, not wands.

"A friend, a very dear friend," I claimed, finally able to respond with a hint of sadness in my eyes and voice.

"Do you ever see him?" Sadie asked.

I gazed out into the parking lot, watching the cars go by on the street, and I whispered back. "No, Sadie…I can't. He's dead."

A gasp of shock escaped from her as her hand flew to cover her mouth. I occupied myself while she digested that, grabbing a towel and the purple cleaner and proceeding to clean the drink stations. I brutally attacked the counter with the spray and towel, proceeding to eradicate every last blemish on the surface, making it disappear. I was working on a particularly tough section when I felt a presence behind me and a hand reach around me to the blue creamer. Sandalwood drifted to me and my shoulders relaxed visibly, some of the tension seeping out.

"Nell, that spot has not come out in two years. I would think it useless to try now," Snape said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I think, Sullivan, that we all must try at least once to prove that theory true," I bit back, annoyed that I had been scrubbing for ten minutes with little to no success, and that Snape had caught me at it.

"Do as you must." He responded, dismissal in his tone.

Irritated even further, I bit back a smart remark and kept scrubbing. After another minute or two, Snape lingering over my shoulder with an evident smirk on his face, I tossed the disposable towel into the trash can, stomping away with my disappointment at looking ridiculous in front of one of my professors. It seemed that Snape still enjoyed terrorizing me, no matter if it was a different country and situation. I bit my lip, grabbing a carton of cigarettes to stock while I waited for the next customer to come to my register, forcing a smile when Snape appeared at mine, smirk still on his face.

I gave him a cool look, one that Sadie said could melt stone, but his smirk did not falter. His eyes flashed with some unknown emotion, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, giving me no time to analyze what his thought was. I rang up his coffee, took his money, and as I gave him his change, our hands brushed and he clasped mine gently, the tips of my fingers caught in his hand. I looked up at him to find a hint of sadness in his eyes that disappeared as quickly as it most likely appeared.

"Your hands are…"

"…still cold." I said, looking at him with a real smile, however small. "I know. I've been trying to keep them warmer, but I was stocking the cooler an hour ago. They haven't quite warmed up again yet."

"Good." At this, he looked around, noticing only one older gentleman reading the paper. He was turned away from us, but I was surprised when Snape squeezed my fingers gently before releasing them. "Remember to punch my card. I will see you in the morning, Miss Johnson," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

At that, he left quickly, smoothly getting into his car and driving away. I watched him leave, gazing out the window, and heard a rustle of paper to my left and the doorbell sound again. I saw the older man's jacket as he left the store in a hurry, starting up his rather noisy truck and speeding away. I shrugged, merely thinking he had seen something in the paper he didn't like. Either way, he didn't buy it, so it was of no concern to me. I turned to the clock, sighing when I noticed three hours left. Grabbing a bottle of cleaner and some towels, I dragged the stepladder outside and towards the gas pumps. It was time to make them shine.

Over the next week, my interactions with Snape increased in frequency and length. As the spring lengthened into early summer, more young children came into "BISTO" as the days got longer, parking their small bicycles outside the front doors. I began to see this place as more of a home for the ones who slipped through the cracks, families that lived on food stamps and came to the store for the deals on milk and bread, lower than the market down the way. Old friends from years before came to the store to talk, buy their lottery tickets and a newspaper, than drive off slowly in their cars after an hour's worth of conversation. It was the "place to be" for the older crowd living in White Pine.

Being such, it was also the place for gossip. I listened with closed ears many times, knowing little about this town and its inhabitants, but every so often something interesting caught my ears. While I was stocking the beer cooler, I happened to catch an irritated comment when the cooler door opened on the other side.

"I wish they would fire him already. I don't want a murderer teaching my children," the man said vehemently. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he spoke a little more to the woman on his right. "He ain't done nothin' but cause trouble ever since he came, and I for one, don't want him around here any longer."

The woman did little but nod in agreement, shuffling along with her little child, its hand gripping onto her leg with force. Her eyes caught mine from where I was before it buried its face in her mother's leg, eyes wide with fright. I wondered what scared the child so much, but I merely stocked more alcohol as I thought about the incident. Conversations like this had become more and more frequent on the night shift, Sadie claimed, but she never really told me much about them. I was curious, a trait that had never left me, and my curiosity was being tempted sorely by these rash statements.

Few people talked with me besides my coworkers, and even the conversations I had with them were short and sweet. No one told me about the town, other than a little about the regulars that showed up daily. I knew the regulars by heart after a month or so of working at "BISTO." Richard played the lotto much more at the first of the month when his check came in and he had a rather large mutt whose ribs stuck out from lack of food. Cheryl came in every night for a paper and two cookie dough milkshakes, one prepared and one closed for the next morning's breakfast. One man always came in with a beat-up red truck for three packs of Reds, soft pack, every two or three days. Still, none of these people interested me as much as Snape, the ever-enigmatic Sullivan.

He had yet to answer any of the questions I had about his disappearance, the Final Battle, or how he ended up in the small town of White Pine in Midwestern America. Deep inside, I felt there was much more to the story than he would ever tell me…unless there was a certain trick. I truly knew nothing about the man, but I did know how he liked his coffee. As I thought, an idea clicked and a plan moved itself into motion like the ticking of a grandfather clock. If I knew a little about Snape, I knew that Sadie would know more. I just had to convince her to tell me.

I did not have to wait very long. Sadie was moved back to the afternoon shift with me after one particular drunken character had threatened her verbally and had nearly assaulted her. Quick thinking had placed the man in jail, but left the employees rather frightened and Amber much more careful with her scheduling. The town of White Pine was no longer a sleeping retirement community, but one that was showing its ugly head quite visibly. Sadie was very shaken after the incident, understandably, but she was open to me, confiding in me. She was hesitant to tell me why, finally confessing a week after the incident.

"You don't know anything about this town or its people unless someone tells you. You ask questions, but nothing about people's lives. I can trust you not to pry. I expect you have your secrets as I have mine, secrets I won't ever be willing to tell. The people in this town are vultures, Nell, and they will tear you apart unless you prepare yourself. What that man did…" she shuddered as she remembered, "that was nothing. These people play with emotions, not physical harm. Few words can send you to jail, but he happened to hit the mark because he was drunk."

"What about Sullivan?" I asked innocently. "Why has he adjusted so smoothly to this town?"

A glare from her told me otherwise, confirming for me that things are not always what they appear to be. "I swear sometimes, girl, you are completely senseless! Sullivan is only avoided because of his run-ins with the police. He's a very shady character." She edged closer, whispering now into my ear. "He killed someone, Nell…at least that's what they say." A shiver ran down her spine as she shook from its sudden chill, pulling her face away from mine. I noticed she wore less makeup now, the liner a little lighter and the colors more muted. It made her look human again, not like a painted doll in a store window.

"Sadie, we are human. We make mistakes," I replied, knowing that he had killed many more people without regret than Sadie could even dream.

"Not mistakes like that…never a mistake like that," she responded, shaking her head frantically. "Nell, please don't get involved with him. He's different," she begged of me, pleading with me through the tone of her voice.

"I never said he wasn't. However, so am I," I said, looking at her with a pointed stare.

After a moment or two, I asked her another question. "What is he doing in White Pine?"

"Truthfully, no one really knows. He bought a house near the edge of town, near the trails, but it's a rather large house for one person. Some say he brought someone with him from Britain, but he's the only one to leave or enter the house. Those rumors died down until a few months ago when a few teenagers could have sworn they saw a young woman with him one night on the property, but that story died off pretty soon too. Cops found out the teenagers were drunk and had been hanging around the graveyards after dark to drink. They all got warnings from the force about trespassing and the alcohol, so no one said very much after that. He's always kept to himself, so no one ever asks."

I pondered for a bit, finding that last statement hard to believe. It was my impression that trespassing and an overall interest in the "shady character" of Severus Snape had become an unhealthy obsession for this town's population. He was but another link in the chain, an endless source of mystery and speculation, the perfect fodder for wagging tongues and loose speech. I turned back to the cigarettes, again stocking them since it seemed no one else did, when Sadie spoke again.

"They talk about you too. Some claim you're dangerous like him. Amber has gotten lots of hate mail from hiring you, but it hasn't deterred her any. Judy and I laughed about it earlier. We both think you can't even hurt a fly because you have such a soft heart. It's evident in the way you smile at these people…it's as if you really care about them." After a few moments, she whispered to me, "Don't get involved with him, though. The vultures will tear you apart."

"They are the least of my worries. I can handle them," I said confidently.

"I hope so…I like you. I don't want you to leave," she smiled.

"Whoever said I was going to leave? I don't have anywhere else to go." I smiled back at her, dropping a few cigarette packs from my clumsiness. As I bent down to pick them up, I smacked my head on the pulled out rack, causing Sadie to laugh.

Everything was back to normal once again, except for the fact I now had a small lump from where I caught the corner of the rack. I heard a splat and saw Coke slushie on the newly swept floor, quickly running to grab the mop bucket, all the while thinking about what exactly I'd gotten myself into this time.


	9. Taunting the Vultures' Grasp

_Somewhere Out There: Taunting the Vultures' Grasp_

* * *

A few days later, another deluge happened upon the town, waking me up in the middle of the night with its loud, crashing thunder and bright flashes of lightning. Lynx had leapt onto my chest out of fright, effectively draining my hopes of ever going back to sleep. I picked her up, cradling her in my arms, going into the living room and setting her on my lap when I sat down in the only chair available. I rested myself back with a book, a regular fiction tale, as she began to fall asleep again. I smiled down at the kitten, hoping that I wouldn't have to use the loo anytime soon.

Soon enough, the story dragged me in, pulling me along with its intricately woven characters and dynamic plot, so much so that the hours flew by until my alarm went off in the bedroom. I felt a wave of tiredness slip over me and mentally cursed myself for not falling back asleep. Work would be hell today, especially if it was still raining. A large blast of thunder confirmed my suspicions and I sighed out loud. I was going to get soaked walking to work…well, bloody hell.

I pushed the cat off of me and went to wash up. A shower was out of the question because of the storm, but I felt a little bit disgusting anyway. Filling the sink with warm water, I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face, feeling a little cleaner than before. I had just reached for a towel when three sharp knocks sounded on the door. My face lifted up and stared into the mirror before I grabbed the towel, wiping my face as I went. I barely missed the cat's tail on my way, a little blinded by fabric, but I managed to reach the front door and open it without too much trouble. I had no idea who would visit me at this hour, but a sharp gasp on the other side caught my ears.

Lifting my face from the towel, I gazed into dark eyes and a blush began to form on my cheeks. I thought to myself that I looked summarily awful, especially since my eyes looked a bit groggy and my brain a bit addled from lack of sleep. We stood there for a long moment, a faint blush crossing his cheeks as well, quite noticeable against his pale skin. A soft purr forced us both to look down as I noticed Lynx weaving around Snape's legs in a completely invasive manner to the man's personal space. I giggled once, twice, before a cough brought me back up into Snape's now-angry eyes.

"Kindly extract your _creature _from my person, Miss Granger," he stated in a rather commanding tone.

My eyes were smiling as I bent down to cradle Lynx in my arms, her face still turned towards the sour man lingering in my doorway, the rain outside the perfect frame to his bitter demeanor and I realized his right eyebrow was raised expectantly at me, scowl still firmly in place. My brain finally caught up with the rest of me at this point; the realization he was still standing in my doorway, awaiting entry, prompted me to speak.

"I'm sorry!" I practically yelped. "Please come in. I'll put on some coffee?" I suggested.

"That would be acceptable," he agreed, the scowl fading.

I felt his eyes on my back as I walked into the kitchen, opening a few cupboards to draw out two mugs and a coffee filter, placing it in the brewer and filling it with grounds. As it brewed, I turned back to him, arms crossed and eyes searching his own for some explanation as to his appearance on my doorstep at this hour.

"Miss Granger, perhaps you could…dress first?" Snape said, averting his eyes from my form.

Looking down, my cheeks immediately brightened when I realized the shirt I'd worn to bed had gotten wet in my morning wash, effectively showing my deep red bra through the pale fabric. Cursing to anything and everything, I rushed out of the kitchen, tossing off the wet shirt and finding a dark tank to cover until I dressed for work. When I returned, Snape's signature scowl had reappeared along with Lynx, still rubbing and shedding all over the bottoms of his pant legs. I held in the snicker this time, gently extracting the cat from around his legs and placing her on my bed, shutting the bedroom door. I passed him a roll of wide masking tape from one of the long drawers with his coffee as he shot me a questioning glance.

I explained quickly. "It is the cheapest way to get rid of the fur. I use it daily on mine," I said, gesturing to the faint yellow hairs around the bottom of my dark pants. "I only have milk for cream. I can't afford anything else."

"I can drink it black," Snape responded. "The bitter taste is soothing."

I looked at him closer this time, steaming mug in hand, watching him as his eyes closed as he sniffed the brew, a small smile appearing on his features. In turn, I smiled in response, again finding a piece of the man behind the bitter façade that he showed to the world. My stomach did a little flip when his eyes opened again, darting to me as his eyebrow shot up in question to my smile.

"I certainly did not expect you to knock on my door this morning, Professor. Was there something you wanted to discuss?" I asked him politely, hiding my smirk behind my coffee cup, arching my eyebrow right back at him in a pointed gesture.

"I expected you to have more questions, Miss Granger, and approach me about them. You, the know-it-all, not wanting to know everything for once?" he claimed, taunting me with a sharp tone. "Now this is either a lie or maybe even fear?" At the flash in my eyes, he continued, "Miss Granger, the little Gryffindor lioness always standing up for her friends, is afraid? Do you not want to face the reality of what your life could have been or are you content with your cat and your basic duties at that fuel station? You could have had so much more, but the Dark Lord ruined that for you, did he not?" At the lowering of my head, he continued further. "He killed your parents, your friends, Potter, Weasley…are you content with this half-life, Miss Granger? Are you?"

I gave no response. I merely stared into the living room and sipped at the bitter brew I'd made minutes ago. A few moments stretched like hours while Snape gazed at me, eyes searching for an answer to his questions, questions that he wanted answers for, but that I refused to give. After a few more hesitant moments of silence, he spoke again.

"Now, now, Miss Granger, one would think you could stand up for yourself unless you are…wasting your intelligence," he stated, the last few words barely even whispered.

I was on him in a flash, tossing the coffee cup on the table as the liquid splashed everywhere, on Snape, the floor, myself, and everywhere else within reach. He caught my right wrist, but my left hand managed to catch him with a hard slap across the cheek. I looked into his eyes, mine hard as stone with anger, but his flashed with a moment of sadness and even pain as his grip loosened on my right wrist. As he released my wrist, I realized the precarious position in which I was, especially since I was splayed in quite an undignified manner on Snape's lap. When I tried to move, his eyebrows came together in a questioning glance as he moved his left hand down my side.

I felt his fingers linger on the raised scars that he could feel through the fitted tank and a sudden emotional pain went through my system. I wrenched myself away from his grasp, his eyes, and his touch. I picked up the coffee cup in pieces from where I shattered it on the table, watching the dark liquid spread across the table and onto the floor, holding the shards in my hands. Silent tears dripped down my face as I thought about the work routine, my lonely life, and the one person I knew who could destroy my composure with a single word. I gazed into blank air, hoping for a dust particle to latch onto and reclaim my dignity, but there was none to be found. I suffered in silence, too lost in my own pain to be embarrassed by Snape's eyes fixed on my sorrow.

At long length, Snape rose from the chair, gently grasping my hands and taking the pieces from them, disposing of them in the nearby trash can. He grabbed a towel and wiped my hands clean, lingering on the ring Ron had given me and I hadn't yet taken off except to shower and sleep. When he spoke at last, it was in a much gentler tone than I ever thought possible.

"We all have scars, Hermione," he whispered close to my ear.

"Not like this." I replied hoarsely. "Never like this."

Looking towards the clock, I took the towel from him, hanging it up on the small oven handle and going to dress. I had to go to work, mental breakdown or not, and my conscience needed the relief of monotonous work to soothe it. I was needed there, if only for a few hours, but it kept me busy and away from the morbid, secret thoughts that Severus, no, Snape had dragged up moments ago. It was a brutal reminder that I could not deal with the immense pain of loss and the fear of my own lifeless existence drove me to steel myself against it. There was always tomorrow to take on larger issues since there was no point in dwelling on them now.

Quickly changing from my coffee-soaked outfit, I dressed for work, putting the H-shaped earrings in on impulse. I needed bright and gaudy to remind myself to be Nell Johnson, the simple British girl stuck in the middle of a cornfield. When I emerged again, Snape had cleaned up the remains of the coffee and was currently trying to extract Lynx from around his ankles. The cat, of course, would hear none of it and continued her weaving.

"Are you ready to leave, Miss Granger?"

I nodded in response, opening the door to find the rain still coming down, even harder now. I smirked a bit when I noticed where his car was parked, but I turned back to him with an innocent look on my face.

"We'll have to run for it."

"I think I am up to the challenge," Snape replied, tying the last lace of his shoe that the kitten was attempting to chew. "It can't be worse than this mongrel."

"You have to go first since it's your vehicle."

"No, we both must get soaked if you want a 'taxi service', Miss Granger. I could make you walk."

Huffing, I agreed. "Fine, run on three."

We both prepared, looking quite funny in our various "running" positions, as I counted down. Upon my shout of three, Snape almost flew down the stairs, barely catching himself on the last one while I followed much slower behind, launching myself past the last two. As he ran to the car, he suddenly dipped as both feet landed in a huge pothole and dirty water sprayed everywhere, covering Snape and his car. I bent over with laughter, crowing inside at the dirty joke I had just played on my previous Potions professor.

I quickly ran to the car, noticing his wide smirk as he entered the car in time to hear the door click shut, effectively locking me out in the pouring rain. I stomped my foot, spraying water on myself from another pothole, then dragged my fingers and face down the wet glass to annoy the person in cozy comfort on the other side. I saw him inside, eyebrow raised and a deep smirk on his face, the corners of his mouth twisting up as his hair dripped water. Once my hair was completely soaked through, I heard the door click open and I scrambled inside to the dry car.

"I believe I am lucky to have leather seats after your antics, Miss Granger." As I glared at him from my seat, a nasty smile slid across my face as I slid my rear down the seat, making a sharp squeaking sound to which Snape replied, "Then again, possibly not."

"That is for making me wait in the rain and for my hair."

"I believe that I made you wait in the rain for your little 'splash' stunt, you irritating little Gryffindor."

"I could say the same for you, you smart-arsed Slytherin."

His only reply was a smirk as he drove us to "BISTO," putting the heat on low in a futile attempt to dry us. Our dripping locks made small sounds as the drops fell to the leather seats below, both of us content to just be human in that moment. Again, the eerie high notes of a female soprano played softly in the car as a grand piano played in melody under her enchanting voice. It soothed me in a way words could not, drawing me in to the complexity of the music. Too soon, the gas pumps of "BISTO" showed themselves around the last corner, still gleaming even through the rain. This time, we both left the car, Snape locking it as he left.

Sadie, Amber, and Lynn gave us both odd looks as we came in to the store, dripping wet and both smiling at each other. They passed a quick glance between the three of them before Lynn was distracted by a customer, breaking the moment short. I walked behind the counter, grabbing my nametag and laying my keys on the back counter as I walked back out. Both Sadie and Amber bent over laughing, unable to say a word. I merely rolled my eyes at them and began the daily paperwork.

I heard Lynn's voice from my right ear, talking to Snape in a light tone. "How on earth do you manage to look like something the cat dragged in? I would have thought two years in this town would have taught ya better than that," she laughed.

"I assure you, Lynn, it was a mere _schoolgirl prank_. It will not happen again," he replied as he brought his coffee to the counter. Our eyes met briefly and the smirk returned. "I always demand retribution."

At this, we all laughed, watching as he tried to strut out the door, looking more like a drenched peacock than a tall, formidable man.

"What are those yellow hairs that are all over his pants, Nell?"

I just smiled as I laughed even harder and attempted to dry my hair. Needless to say, I was not very successful at either.

I found out more about Snape's life in White Pine later that week when I met a charming mother and her young son, intermittent regulars at the gas station for the summer month.

Snape dropped me off at work like any other morning, holding the door open for a middle-aged woman with a small child who smiled appreciatively at him, the smile still holding when her eyes recognized who it was. He nodded in recognition, sporting a small smile for the younger child whose hand she gripped tightly. He closed the door before going in, his left hand on my shoulder. Pointing to the woman and her son, he introduced me.

"Nell, this is Kelly and her son David. She's the minister's wife at the church down the road. I teach her older son, Michael, at the secondary school during the year."

Kelly reached out her open hand to shake mine, passing me a warm smile under the summer sun. Her deep green eyes and golden red hair matched her smile, warm with life and love. The youngest son, currently clutching her hand and trying to pull her along, held a small bottle of juice in his left hand. He turned to me and tilted his head to the left before he spoke.

"You're pretty like Mommy is," he said, looking at me. "Don't you think so, Mister?" he asked, turning to look at Snape.

Snape merely smiled, nodding slightly, making me blush as Kelly passed a knowing glance between the two of us. Before she left with David, she spoke to Snape again.

"Is she showing any signs of recovery yet, Sullivan?"

His pained gaze over her shoulder told her what she needed to know as she promised to come by in two days. My brain moved quickly over what Kelly had said and the rumors that were passed around in this town, remembering my discussion with Sadie over the possibility that he didn't come to White Pine alone. It seemed to me that he didn't and he was hiding someone away from the world. Why, however, would remain a mystery as his lips tightened and he entered the building for his daily coffee. The private life of Professor Snape was closed for the time being, its lock made out of sturdy steel, hardened through years of rust and unopened, the key lost somewhere in the fabric of time.

I asked him, my curiosity taking over my better judgement. "Sullivan, who is she?"

His entire body stiffened, his shoulders tensing together. The dark glasses which usually remained off of his face were slid into place, hiding the sudden pain that filled his eyes as a deep frown set into his features. He gazed off into the distance behind the glass doors of "BISTO", towards the other end of town, before looking back at me from behind the glasses. I couldn't tell what he was feeling other than the tension clouding his body, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with sorrow.

"She, Miss Johnson, is simply another one of my many failures."

After that, he abruptly left, leaving me shocked by his blunt statement. My curiosity had been somewhat sated, considering I now knew there was another person in the life of Severus Snape. Her existence pained him beyond all measure and it made my heart ache. This man, who could have cared less if he had died in the war, still dealt with his failures and his wrong choices every waking moment. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek before I wiped it away. My heart ached for him, a lost soul who was drifting through days as if they were grains of sand in a large hourglass.

I felt, in that moment, completely useless and no more than added baggage to the man whose life had been ripped apart, just as mine had, by the vicious reign of Voldemort. I wanted to heal him, but I had no idea how. Instead, my walls of emotion crumbled and I wept inwardly for him, a necessary solace for my broken heart.

After that, the next few days fell into an easy system. Snape would drive me to work daily, after which he would come in and get his coffee. We talked rarely, more content to just be in the other's presence, but the tension we both felt over the last long conversation we had began to slip away. I was beginning to learn that dwelling on the past, something unchangeable, was useless. All it brought was painful memories, and though I was still dealing with death and the memories of the way, I needed the comfort of new, positive memories. I smiled to myself when I thought of the wonderful memories I had already made with Snape, still the same, sarcastic bastard that he was at Hogwarts, but also soft and gentle, unlike anything Harry and Ron could have even dreamed.

I happened to think that Snape enjoyed the time we spent together, however brief, and I truly started to speculate on his past with the people in this town. So far, I only knew what Sadie had told me, but I knew there was always more to the story when Severus Snape was involved. As a rather rocky acquaintance started to grow into a friendship, the people of White Pine began to whisper more with the regular crowds, enough for Snape and I both to notice. Older men looked upon Snape with disgust for befriending a young woman as those young women gazed at me with pity. Soon, the words were the same, our relationship deemed as unusual and a cardinal sin in the eyes of these people.

No one seemed to care that two lonely people had become friends, bringing a little bit of light, however tarnished, into the other's small world. No one asked; we never told. It was a brutal cycle of words marred with hate and intentional harm. I fell to the brunt of these attacks, the most vivid reminder of my solitary life in this town, attached to a man who was hated and preyed upon like a sickly calf by a pack of wolves. One such attack left me shocked and deeply hurt.

In preparation for the Fourth of July, our shipments of beer had grown significantly because of supply and demand. I was stocking the single twenty-four ounce cans when one middle-aged man made a disapproving sound, coming rather close to me with his body, locking me in a corner. His beer-tainted breath was terrible as he spoke to me.

"I've seen you with him. He's bad blood, murderin' blood. I would suggest you stay away from him, if you know what I mean." His blurred eyes widened significantly when I stood up straighter, glaring at him as my eyes flared in anger.

"You know nothing about this man. You spread lies, erroneous lies that make you look smart. All it does is make you stupid and lazy," I fought back, determined to defend him to these people.

His anger flared, his meaty hand catching my upper arm hard in a bruising grip. Getting even closer to my face, I almost gagged at the horrible stench of beer. "You think you're so smart, you little brat. You're nothing more to him than a simple whore, his own little plaything. I bet you spread your legs wide for him, welcome him with open arms." His grip tightened, the pain causing a few tears to fall from my eyes as he roughly fondled my breast with his free hand. "I could take a go for myself if you're that cheap."

Roughly pushing him off of me, I darted out of the cooler towards the safety of the second register, leaving the chill of the encounter behind me. I wondered if that is what the town really thought of me, this young British woman whose second job was being a prostitute for a murderer. It sounded rather seedy and was perfect fodder for the gossip mill, the perfect lie to spread and ruin reputations. I, however, could have cared less about my reputation. I protected my friends, no matter the past.

A steaming cup of coffee placed itself at my register followed by the worried eyes of Sullivan. I smiled quickly to clear the dark gloom from my face, ringing up his coffee and making change. I knew he had seen the fear in my eyes, but he decided not to say anything about it. Instead, he asked me something that I would have never expected.

"Do you work on the fourth?"

I nodded, sparing a quick glance back to the beer cooler. The man had long since emerged, paid for his beer, and left, but I still felt an eeriness slip over me that was hard to avoid. He followed my eyes, lips tight as he turned back to me.

"I'll pick you up."

I shrugged nonchalantly at his smirk, silently applauding myself for acting so calm. Butterflies dashed out of control in my stomach as his eyes softened and he squeezed my hand lightly before letting it go. He strode out the door with a confident gait and a spring to his step that I would have put down to magic mushrooms if I didn't know what caused it. It was me.

I beamed from ear to ear when a tinkling laugh came from my left. As I looked over into Sadie's face, her smile was mischievous and genuine.

"You have got it bad."

At that moment, I knew she was right. I had fallen for Severus Snape, a known Death Eater, Dumbledore's murderer, and yet, my heart was light. In my little world of magic and Muggle, I had just changed the entire course of history.

Oh, bloody hell.


	10. Light to Flame, then Darkness

_Somewhere Out There: Light to Flame, then Darkness_

* * *

Soon enough, the beer was sold, the customers seemed happier, and July fourth had arrived. The small town buzzed, full of activities, family gatherings, and the occasional teenage party. It wasn't any of this, however, that made my heart fill with gladness. I felt happy for the first time in years, ever since the fateful night of the Final Battle, all of it due to Severus Snape. As much as I loved the boys, I couldn't ever insult Snape like they did, even when we were children. There was a modicum of respect that I intended to keep to each and every person, even if he or she was an utter bastard; besides, I had concluded long ago that Umbridge was worse than Snape could ever be. Even Snape wouldn't be as cruel as Umbridge was, making Harry etch words written in his own blood onto his hand as punishment. When I really thought about it, maybe Umbridge lost my respect, but Snape never did.

The hours sluggishly crept by, my anticipation only added to extending the ticking time of the clock. I'd taken a little advice from Sadie, since she seemed fit to give it, and put a little more effort into my appearance today. Even though I still wore the company's uniform, I had applied a bit of cosmetics around my eyes and pulled my hair back with clips, letting the front curls escape to frame my face. All in all, it wasn't too bad as I had gazed in the mirror that morning before opening the door to Snape. I had hurried out the door without a second glance since I had been running a bit late, not noticing that Snape dragged a little behind me, lost in thought.

Now, I couldn't wait for the hours to go by fast enough. Everyone was celebrating except for me…well…Dustin was suffering with me, I guess. I wiped down the coffee counter for the third time, stocking the coffee beans this time, their rich and fragrant smell soothing me. I heard the doorbell sound and turned towards the door to look. I was met with a smiling face and green eyes surrounded by red curls. I smiled back, dropping the towel and cleaner to shake hands with Kelly. David was squirming, attempting to squeeze out of his mother's firm grip, black hair bouncing along with his head.

"Nell, could you ring me up a large bag of ice and a propane exchange? Michael forgot to pick up the ice and I decided to get the propane refill early. We're cooking out tonight, but I didn't notice we needed an extra until this morning," she smiled at me, finally picking David up into her arms when he wouldn't settle.

After I rang them out, I opened the propane cage for them, quickly moving the old for the new. Stowing the other in her minivan, she placed David in the carseat and then looked at me hard for a second. I shrank under her scrutiny, not used to such interaction with the people of this small town…at least visible scrutiny. Finally, she smiled again, buckling David in and closing the door. She placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezed lightly, and left. I was not scared by her actions, but simply astounded, a look that showed on my face when I entered the store again, but not before I smacked face-first into the glass door.

"I just cleaned those," Dustin said with little enthusiasm, looking at the huge face print I had just left on the glass while I rubbed my nose in pain.

"At least I didn't leave any drool on them. Here's some newspaper," I replied, tossing him a wad of newspaper and the window solution. He scowled at me darkly as I shrugged. His timing was terrible, I thought to myself, as he grumbled his way to the door once again, this time barely getting the one side done before three kids left their fingerprints all over the other side. They ran inside when he opened the door, oblivious to his deep frown as I laughed at his sad plight.

I enjoyed the simple things in life now, the smiling faces of children, the flowers in front of houses on my walks back to the apartment, and the summer sun shining down. It was the perfect catharsis to what used to be a dark, dank, and lifeless war, the time in Britain I always want to forget, yet something that I never will. Even Snape seemed to be lighter of step and heart, dwelling in his dark demeanor only when an issue of the past was brought to light. It frightened me more than anything, the sudden mood changes he had over the course of our friendship. At times, he was a volatile bomb, ready to explode at a moment's notice, still others he was calm, cool, and collected. However, when I really thought about it, I was the same way. I drifted back into memory, mesmerized by the sparkling glass of the doors Dustin was currently cleaning.

Memories occupied my thoughts until the sun started falling behind the clouds and a single black car made its way into the parking lot of "BISTO," carrying the one person I most wanted to see.

I smiled when he came inside, this time dressed in a dark t-shirt that hugged his slim form and dark jeans to match. The last time I'd really seen him before the States, I realized, was when he still haunted the castle corridors like a ghost swathed in ebony fabric that blended into the night. He had been a bitter, cold man, heartless and cruel to his students, and even those of his own House without right. Underneath the rough exterior, however, I was beginning to find a softer side, caring and fiercely protective. I questioned my judgment; whether it was distorted by the oddity of the very different lives we now led or whether it was sound, forged through experience and pain, was still to be decided. I couldn't turn my back on Severus Snape for two reasons; he had all the answers to my questions and I, like Sadie had pointed out, had fallen for my Potions Professor, however obsolete that title was.

As he came closer to the register as I finished counting my drawer, I noticed his left hand was buried deep in his left pocket in an effort to hide the Mark against his body. I gave him a slight frown before turning back to my work. The Mark was something Snape and I would never agree upon, it seemed, but I noticed he was making an effort. That meant more to me than any amount of money life could bring me as a little part of me rejoiced at his actions as I frowned at him. His bright eyes were a shock to me when I met them, slamming my finger in the register drawer by my inattention. He smirked as a response as I shot him a dark look which only made his smirk widen. The amount of irritation I felt at him, however, was fleeting since I knew it was my own fault in the first place.

I grabbed my sack that carried my keys and such to work, clutching it in my hand as I made my way out to the car with him following close behind. I heard the doors unlock, opening the door and getting settled in completely before we drove off. He smiled at me as he turned onto the street, driving out of town slowly but surely. I had no idea where we were going, but I told myself that with Snape I never knew anyway, so I went along for the ride. We drove past smaller homes, then larger homes, eventually passing a mid-sized church on the border of town. It was the first time he spoke the entire car ride, his voice quickly catching in my ear.

"Miss Granger, I would appreciate if you would open your window if you insist on leaving fingerprints. Those don't wash off in the rain," he stated, without even passing a glance my way.

I pouted a bit, responding, "I only wanted to look closer at the stained-glass windows of the church. The sun was catching them just right."

He only nodded, gaze still fixed on the road ahead, leading us further out of town passing by a number of cornfields before slowing down and turning onto a long, dirt road. Dust scattered with gravel as he moved slowly down the road, pausing now and again to avoid the larger potholes along the way. I was still entranced by the corn, half grown now from the hot summer, and was startled by a large brown thing running through the stalks.

I heard a snort from my left. "I never knew you were scared of groundhogs, Miss Granger."

"I'm not, _Professor_," I stated, emphasizing the title with a venomous bite.

His face gradually darkened in anger, but soon his narrowed eyes began to widen as a large, white farmhouse came into view. A rare smile crossed his features as he pulled onto the grass, parking as the front screen opened to Kelly in a large, light blue apron with her arms crossed and David running out to the car on his little legs. He quickly opened the door of the car, letting David crawl in on his lap and immediately bury his face in Snape's shirt.

"Mommy said you might not come," David sniffled, his face still buried in Snape's shirt.

As I looked on in shock, Snape wrapped his arms around the small boy, pulling him back to meet the boy's eyes. His smile was still firmly in place as something flitted across his eyes, much too quick for me to discern, but he unwrapped the boy completely from his body, placing him outside the car as he unbuckled his seatbelt. My mouth still hung open at his gentle response to the small child, more used to his bitter, sarcastic comments to the young children at Hogwarts. He leaned down to the boy and whispered in his ear loudly enough so I could hear when he spoke.

"I forgot to tell your mother I was bringing a friend."

David then peeked around Snape's head and his eyes lit up when he focused on my face, my mouth closing abruptly as his face widened with a huge smile.

"You brought the pretty lady with you! Mommy will be happy," David cried with enthusiasm, his bright face and green eyes expressive.

I blushed deeply as Snape turned his head to look at me, catching my eyes with his dark gaze. Eventually, I tore myself away from his eyes, opening the door on the other side of the car, extracting myself from the comfortable seat and stepping onto the soft grass.

I shut the door and went around the car, looking at the house as Kelly descended the stairs, sunlight at her back. It lit up her hair until it seemed her head was on fire, burning bright as a beacon in the dark, the sun streaking gold through her locks. As she drew closer, the image faded, but I thought immediately of Ginny, her proud stance and never-ending smile as she drew closer.

I desperately wanted to see her again, the little redhead who fell so in love with Harry she was willing to die for him. Sometimes, I wonder if her death played any part in Harry's. He had screamed her name when she collapsed, lifeless to the muddy soil, the pain and anguish ripping out of him. I knew he had loved her…with all his being, he'd said once. He didn't want her to fight, but she refused to stay hidden. In the end, they both died together, a small solace to me when I realized they would finally be together at last, no worries and no cares. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about them, smiling down from the fading sunlight onto the life of a friend, watching my struggles but feeling nothing. I wondered if they could even love anymore, wherever they had gone, but I didn't know. Not witch, wizard, nor Muggle truly knew what happened after death, the mystery of the circle of time still unanswered, so I was left to wonder in my human body and with my human emotions.

A light tug on my hand caused me to look down, tears still brimming in my eyes as I looked into David's confused face, his eyes wide and his little mouth turned down into a frown.

"Why are you crying? Do you hurt somewhere? Make it better, Sully," he said, clenching his hands into little balls and looking at Snape with an accusatory glare.

Snape was startled at the young man's behavior, clear in his face, but he knelt down to the child, putting out his hands. The little boy eyed him, looking from his hands to his face, finally moving closer and placing his fists in Snape's long-fingered hands. David's eyes drifted to Snape's as Kelly and I looked on, waiting to see what would happen. Finally, Snape spoke.

"Do you remember when your favorite rabbit died, David? How you cried and cried when you knew it wasn't coming back?" As David's eyes filled with tears, he nodded, and Snape continued. "It's like that. Nell has friends that died a long time ago and they can't ever come back. She misses them very much and she cries about it too. Do you still cry about your rabbit sometimes?" When David nodded again, Snape pulled him into a hug and spoke some more. "Do you understand now? It's going to take a long time for her to not cry anymore." He gazed up at me at this statement, concern layered in his eyes as he said, "A very long time."

I gave David a smile through my tears. "I do miss them…every day."

"David, why don't you show Nell around? I'm sure she's really excited to be here and can't wait to see the fireworks tonight," Kelly said to him, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Go ask your dad if dinner's done too while you're at it."

He eagerly grabbed my hand, determined to make me happy again as only a child can and I was led off towards the house, Snape and Kelly following behind, now deep in conversation. His passive face had returned, his sallow features and angled face sharp in the setting sun. His gaze traveled to me for a moment before sending me a small smile and then resuming conversation with Kelly. I turned back to David's blabber as he took me towards the house and out to the backyard where the smell of food was becoming rather apparent. My stomach growled and I began to realize how hungry I actually was.

David led me out to the barn to see his new rabbit, a brown bunny with flecks of golden fur here and there. He petted her through the cage, a broad smile continually on his face as little puffs of fur filtered through the bars, flying in the little breeze that blew through the old wood of the barn. One or two horses whinnied in the far stalls, the sun coming in through the open door on the other side, displaying the tall corn backed by a beautiful sunset in gold and red hues. I sighed, my body relaxing as I looked out over the corn to the horizon, losing myself in the warmth of the colors. A hand settled on my shoulder, startling me and making me tense uncontrollably.

"You should eat while the food's still warm," a low voice to my right stated, the warm tones dripping over my ears like honey. "Kelly's quite the cook."

"I'm not really all that hungry," I said as my stomach's grumbling immediately blew my cover. I inwardly groaned, hoping Snape hadn't heard. A small chuckle informed me that he had indeed heard my stomach and its loud complaint.

"I believe your body says differently. Come, Miss Granger, they are waiting for us," he stated in a light, commanding voice.

Helplessly, I followed him, his hand still planted firmly on my shoulder no matter how hard I tried to shake it off. We walked together towards a large firepit placed in the center of a circle of chairs, a fire currently burning strong to add light to the ever-growing darkness. A simple meal of homemade hamburger patties, macaroni salad, and other assorted side dishes and pastries was assembled on a table in the unused portion of the large garage. Under Snape's urging, I filled my plate modestly, not wanting to take too much of the host's hospitality for granted. Snape, however, filled his plate with a bit of everything, managing to grab cups full of lemonade for the both of us. I picked a place closer to the fire, the chill of a light breeze settling over me and drawing the heat from me. I moved my chair closer to Snape's, ignoring his smirk at me, and started to eat.

The food was delicious. I sighed in happiness as I finished my plate, for once feeling completely full and a little tired. It was completely dark now and as Snape grabbed both of our used plates and glasses, I felt him reach a hand to me, clasping it in mine as he drew me up. He tossed the garbage in a nearby trash can, now freeing both hands to grab onto mine, pulling me along until we were in the shadow of the barn, Snape resting his back against the hard wood of the barn.

"I didn't bring you here for just the food. Turn around."

A faint pop sounded behind me and as I turned, the night sky lit up with many different colors. Blues, greens, and reds lit up the sky as the children gathered around the fire cheered and clapped at the pretty colors. I was in awe at the enormity of it all because it meant so much more to me. Fireworks were a core part of the celebration of America's freedom and they were beautiful. I leaned backwards, colliding with something soft and in hearing a sharp intake of breath, I realized I wasn't leaning against the wall but against Snape instead. I made to apologize at my blunder, but long, tapered hands settled at my waist as his breath hit my ear.

"Stay," he whispered in a breathy tone. At that word, I melted back against him, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder, not breaking my eyes from the night sky filled with a rainbow of colors. Over the course of the celebration, he would tell me which ones were which, telling me about the difference between the "willow", "diadem", and "spider" clusters. When the fireworks finally ended after the grand finale, I smiled, turning to him and looking into his dark eyes.

"Thank you…Severus." I said.

"It was a…pleasure…Miss Granger," Snape responded.

"My name is Hermione. Hermione…" I whispered to him, moving closer to his body as the scent of sandalwood overtook my senses.

My lashes fluttered like butterfly wings over my eyes as I saw Snape take a deep breath. I felt a hand move up from my side, over my shoulder and spreading its warmth onto my cheek. We looked at each other with such intensity neither of us could break the contact as our faces drew closer to the other's. I felt his warm breath on my face and I was sure he could feel mine as well. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, my eyes still locked in a battle of wills with his as my hands trailed over his chest and waist. Our heads turned sideways as we drew even closer, my eyelids fluttering closed as I heard the fast crunch of gravel and a quick siren blip before I felt Severus stiffen.

His face was mere inches from mine, but his hand left my face and I opened my eyes to see Severus looking to the right at the sheriff's car skidding into the gravel driveway of Kelly's home. He pushed himself away from the wall, abruptly colliding with me and stalking off towards the policeman's vehicle. A larger man extracted himself from the vehicle, the same height as Snape but a much more rotund man, and found himself in deep conversation with Snape.

I hurried along after him, disappointed that the result of tonight would end as unplanned as it had started. When I approached the vehicle, the officer sent me a soft look, motioning to the back seat of the cruiser.

"I think," he stated in a very deep voice that was raspy from years of cigarette smoke, "Nell Johnson, this is your cat?"

Lynx lay barely moving in the backseat, twitching a little as I opened the door and gently picked her up into my arms. She was covered in her own blood and I gasped, crying into her matted fur as the stench of fresh blood rose to my nose. When the officer spoke again, I felt the kitten's weight lifted from my arms as Kelly took her into the house for a bath and some nourishment. I stood dumbfounded, watching Kelly as she disappeared from sight with Lynx, her pitiful mewling forcing tears down my cheeks.

"What the hell happened?" Snape yelled at the man in barely concealed rage, seeing my pain and my impending emotional breakdown.

"Sullivan, it seems someone is not…fond…of Miss Johnson. I'd suggest you both come with me. I need her to survey the damages and then an investigation will take place…"

I lifted my head quickly. As the words "damages" and "investigation" ran through my thoughts, I wondered how much of this was actually true.

"Officer," I began, my voice unsteady. "What exactly are you talking about? What happened to my apartment?"

His gaze looked from Sullivan to myself and back to Sullivan. The firm set of Snape's lips and tenseness affirmed that something was very wrong even before the officer spoke again.

"Miss Johnson, I can only say vandalism is the _least_ of your worries."


	11. Lonely Faces

_Somewhere Out There: Lonely Faces_

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I still stood in shock, my hands faintly smelling of Lynx's blood when I felt another warm hand on my shoulder. I looked up towards the officer and nodded slightly.

"Miss Johnson," he said, "I wish we could have met another way."

"Officer…Fisher," I replied, looking at the shiny nameplate on his brown uniform, "I would have to agree with you."

"Let me say goodbye to Kelly for her hospitality and then we can deal with the…damages."

At the officer's nod, I went into the house through the same door Kelly had used a few minutes earlier. I walked through the foyer with its Americana decorations, passing through the muted living room in light colors to the pastels of the kitchen. The light was harsh after the deep stain of night on my eyes, but I adjusted quickly to it, focused on where Kelly was gently washing my kitten with tender strokes, cleaning off the blood. She glanced over at me as I entered, pointing to a bar stool set up on the one end of the kitchen counter.

"I had David call the veterinarian. He's coming right to the house so he can fix her up. It looks like the extent of the damage might be a few broken ribs, but there are a few places of burned fur. However, since she's so young, I have no doubts that she'll recover. She can stay here as long as she needs to while you deal with the incident." She smiled at me, her green eyes filled with life. "David's already fallen in love with her. She will be well cared for, I'm sure."

I could barely squeak out my next question to her. "Am I really that evil?"

Kelly frowned at this, giving me a hard look that told me otherwise. "Nell, I believe that you want to blame yourself for this," she emphasized, pointing to my injured kitten. "These people, as much as they are my friends and neighbors, are sheltered. They only see what they want to see. It has been two years for Sullivan and it is still a struggle. It tends to be the truth that friends are less forgiving than enemies…around here, at least. You cannot blame yourself for something you did not do."

"Oh, but how I can," I responded with a wistful sigh, thinking about all the hatred and evil I did nothing against and the deaths of my friends that I believed I caused.

"Only if you accept it that way," Kelly stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I will never be the pristine person these people want me to be. Neither will Sullivan. We make mistakes, all of us do. Can't people see that?" I cried, holding myself up high on the stool, hatred burning in my eyes. "We are humans, not gods," I finished, the pride and courage in my speech dwindling as I took in what I said.

She made a sweeping motion with her hand, soft foam falling from her hand onto the countertop as the bubbles popped and swirled into water, staining the white a misty blue with their coloring. "I know you are. Have you ever thought that they might be a little human as well?"

I gazed at the charred fur of my kitten one last time as tears began to fill my eyes and my shoulders began to shake. Vaguely, I heard the water shut off and the screen door open as wrenching sobs drew from my body, my head buried in my crossed arms on the counter. I felt Kelly move closer, wrapping me in a soft hug and letting me cry as all mothers do. Slowly and with agonizing pain, I wept about it all in silence, the memories coming full tilt and escaping in rapid gulps with my breath. Sick of suffering, my body let all of my emotion play through the tears.

After a long moment, my sobs began to ease and Kelly's soothing nonsense words started to calm me. At this point, I felt a warm, long-fingered hand being placed on mine, curling around the hair splayed on top of them. Not caring how nasty my hair must look, I clung to the hand like a lifeline, squeezing it until I heard a sharp gasp of pain. I quickly loosened my grip a bit, but still held it with some force, the calloused pad of the thumb trailing a cool line over my skin.

Finally, my sobbing lessened and ceased, the only sound in the room being my heavy breathing and the soft mewls of Lynx from the kitchen sink. I raised my head, my messy curls catching in Snape's fingers before slipping free to join the rest of my bushy mop. I knew I looked a mess, my makeup smeared over my eyes that along with my red bloodshot eyes made me look even less presentable than I had been before. Before I knew it, Snape's hand was softly touching the skin on my neck as he pulled my hair back into a loose bun, a few loose strands escaping his grasp to float back to the front of my face. The sensation drew an involuntary shiver from my body, but whether it was from the warm touch of his hand or a spark of electric lust I couldn't discern. It was gone as soon as it came, replacing by the soothing tones of his voice as he spoke.

"Nell, we need to go. The investigation can wait until tomorrow and you need rest." He looked deep into my eyes for a moment before I turned away, throwing my gaze to the other side of the room. The overwhelming intensity in his eyes was too much for my overworked brain to handle at this point. I stood, pushing the stool back into the counter and gave Kelly a warm hug.

"Thank you for everything. I couldn't ask for anything more."

With an enigmatic smile, Kelly nodded, looking at me and Snape with an unreadable expression. At long length, she agreed with me.

"You don't need to ask. What you really want will be…freely given," she claimed, pursing her lips for a second in thought.

Her eyes softened at me, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, promising that everything would be taken care of, no matter how long it took. As I strode out the door after Snape, I looked back and there were tears in her eyes, shimmering in the pale light from the house. I didn't bother to ask why she was crying. Some people just do.

I was silent the entire trip. I looked up at the stars, twinkling happily in the night sky as beacons for weary travelers and lost souls. They gave no help to me, a woman stuck in the center of a very small universe, neither lost nor found to her. I was merely floating, drinking in the taste of bitter water as my mind came back down to earth. My heart was playing over the words that Kelly had said to me in one way while my logic took them another way. It was a rather intriguing distraction for the time being, my eyes closed as I feigned sleep to hide from Snape's intense gaze.

Feeling the turns, corners, and smooth ride of the car within my body, I finally listened to the soft music playing in the background as I took in the contrast between the female voice and the instruments. The lyrics began to wash over me, causing me to turn up the music a bit to hear them better. As I did this, I saw Severus tense from the corner of my eye, tightness in his figure that I noticed many times before. I placed my hand on his knee, the chill of the air conditioning lingering on his slacks. Unlike the last time I attempted to touch him, however, he didn't push me away or warn me off. His body welcomed the soft caress, easing into my touch as I felt the slight motions of his foot working the pedals. It made a soft smile come to my face as I turned my head towards him, leaning my head back against the seat to take in his reaction.

His face turned towards mine at a stop sign, his foot still pressed on the brake. When he looked at me, his expression softened, his dark eyes guarded but burning into my very being. A beep of a horn sounded behind us, breaking the moment and painting the very familiar scowl over Snape's features. I smiled broadly and turned, snuggling into the soft seat of his car as we weaved through the streets of White Pine, the soft music lulling me into a light sleep as the car rocked like a cradle to my tired form.

The next thing I heard was a soft click as sandalwood wrapped around me, my limp body a dead weight as Snape extracted me from his car. A small chuckle made me smile and I wrapped my arms tiredly around his neck, still drifting between sleep and wakefulness as he lifted me with little effort from the car, taking care not to bump my head against the top of the door. I snuggled closer in his arms, sucking in the warmth and heat of his body as we made a rather short trek from the cool night into the warm air of his home.

Drifting between dream and reality, I felt slight motions as Snape's chest rumbled in speech, but I was too far in between to focus on what he was saying, though I wondered who was there to speak with him. I heard a few doors open and close and a little bit of shuffling before I was lain down on a soft bed, my arms still wrapped lightly around Snape's neck. As my head sunk into the pillow and the weight of my own arms dragged them down to my chest, I whispered to him.

"Stay."

A light caress from the bottom of my ear to my chin made me shiver, drifting off into sleep, barely catching the last words he said before the room faded into dreams.

"_If only I could…_"

I woke the next morning to the smell of eggs and bacon being cooked, the savory aroma filtering through the crack under the door. My stomach grumbled in protest, not having eaten since the cookout at Kelly's home. Scowling down at it, I pushed off the tangled covers while noticing that I still remained in my clothes from last night, horribly wrinkled from sleeping in them. I sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and yawning mightily, stretching my arms up as my muscles protested.

As I sat, I took in my surroundings. The walls were a rich, light brown with cream accents and a large wooden vanity with pale silver handles was placed near the bed, facing the closed door. Golden yellow curtains were tied back from the four-poster bed, light spilling onto the dark brown comforter from the large set of ivory French doors leading to a balcony. I spied an open door near those doors, noticing pale tile on the other side to signal an adjoining bathroom. When I rose, my feet sank into the plush carpeting, its cool cushion soothing their cramps.

After I had relieved myself in the opulent connecting bathroom, I drifted off towards the exotic smells coming from what I believed to be the kitchen. Along the way, I stared at the fine vintage lamps and other collectibles perched on decorative tables here and there, far enough apart to avoid any unexpected collisions. It surprised me that after only two years, Snape would have had the means to accumulate such expensive items or even want to have such extravagance around him. As I looked closer, however, I noticed the differing styles, the cold metal of pewter and shimmering silvers next to the finest, fragile china. I smiled as I noticed that the complexity of one's home tended to be like its owner.

My stomach grumbled again, prompting my search for the kitchen to quicken my step. I rounded another corner and gasped. The door to the kitchen stood wide open, the light pouring in from the open windows onto the polished dark surface of the countertop. A small amount of smoke came from the oven where this morning's breakfast was baking, but it held no interest for me now as my mouth hung open staring at the blinding blonde hair of Snape's companion in the rays of the summer sun. My eyes settled on the black ones of Snape's, shock plainly evident on my face as he made to stand, extracting his hands from their intertwined position with the woman's on the large kitchen table.

"Hermione…" he said as he started to rise, meaning to make for me at the door.

"You bastard," I whispered as tears filled my eyes before I turned and fled. I ran, not caring about anything other than the relative safety of my own room to which I could slam the door on the sudden jolt of reality that shot through me. When I finally got to the room after dashing through the many corridors of the large home, I threw myself on the bed, large sobs wrenching themselves from my body as pain hit my stomach and my face became buried in the pillows. Severus Snape had lied to me. He wanted no part in my life and I wanted no part in his. As I dwelled on the situation I was currently in, I frantically bit my lip. There was no way to leave, both of us unwilling partners in an unwanted connection that was forced upon us by the magical and muggle world.

Distracted in my thoughts, I crossed to the French doors, opening them and going out into the warm morning sun. The warm breeze caressed my tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, whispering its light tune across my face. If I listened hard enough, I could hear the voices of my friends, carried across oceans to fall on my ears as I remembered them, my ears straining for their whispered advice which I would never hear. Sudden pain at feeling completely alone drained me, forcing me to grip the balustrade for support under the immense pressure of emotional pain. I leaned forward, chest cuddling the unforgiving iron as my head leaned over the railing, soft footsteps falling quickly behind me as I slowly sank down to the ground, supported by two strong arms and long-fingered hands.

Too weak to push away, I merely sagged into Snape, the scent of sandalwood reaching my nose again. My eyes fluttered open and closed for a few moments before I regained focus, planting a firm scowl on my face and a bit of hatred in my eyes. When my head finally stopped hurting, I violently pushed him away, standing up and making for the doors that led back into the house.

"Miss Granger, I would suggest you not act so hastily," he remarked with a bit of steel in his tone.

Wheeling on him, I tossed a few choice words back at him. "I would suggest, Professor Snape, that you keep your advice to yourself, you arrogant, lying…"

"That is enough!" he ground out through clenched teeth, fury seething in his eyes as he drew closer to me, clamping his hand around my upper arm with growing force. "I will not argue over petty things with you. They are of no concern to you, and I order you to keep yourself at a safe distance from my personal life, lest you find yourself a little too close," he replied, pulling me close to his body, the heat radiating from his eyes down into mine.

Anger filled me as I struggled out of his grasp. I rubbed my reddening arm as I glared at him, turning hastily and whipping my hair into his face and eyes, walking at a quick pace down to the kitchen. Instead of stopping me this time, Snape merely followed along behind, his eyes set on me the entire way downstairs. I reached the kitchen again, slamming open the door to find the place empty. I scowled even deeper, smelling the burnt breakfast of the morning as my stomach growled. A soft sigh behind me reminded me that Snape knew his breakfast was ruined as well, but I only smirked at his loss. It was a small victory for my heart in that moment until the door opened again, a slight creaking to the left.

I heard wheels moving over tile and as the person came into view, I gasped in shock at the sight that stared back at me with very blue eyes, blond hair, a quirked eyebrow, and large smile. Feeling a chair placed behind me, I sank onto it, still staring at the young woman I knew. Finding my words as I glanced over the slight body, my mouth dropped open in astonishment as she moved across the floor in her wheelchair, legs useless beneath her.

"Miss Granger, if you have now quite your childish whining, I would like to introduce you to Celeste. However," he continued, standing behind his charge as the darkness against light became once again a stark reminder of the war, "you two have already met. In fact, Hermione, I believe you were dear friends."

Pushing the woman forward in her chair so the sun lighted across her face, the soft features of her life filled now with many faint lines, he pointedly asked me to face my past without any restraints or barriers.

"Hermione, it's all right. The war changed everyone," the small woman responded, barely older than a teenaged child, bright blue eyes blazing with life and fire so unlike the body I now faced.

"No, Luna, not like this. You're…dying," I responded, tears springing anew to my eyes in response as I took in her gaunt frame and pale skin.

"We all are, Hermione. It's only a matter of when."

With a sweeping turn, Snape left us alone, the burnt breakfast dealt with and the room once more silent. As Luna and I stared into each other's eyes, I rose to grasp the handles of the chair, slowly turning her and leading her out into the open garden, a place where we could talk. Her hand reached back to mine, light warm fingers touching my cool ones as her face turned back to mine.

"We survived. To them, that's all that matters," she stated with a grim expression on her face that even the morning sun couldn't remove.

As much as I hated to say it, I silently agreed with her. Wizarding England would never be the same for us, and now, America seemed to be getting different too.


End file.
